Horizon Line
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: Booth and Brennan embark on a new kind of partnership as they move to Quantico, VA, and take on new jobs. A sequel to "Vanishing Point" this will cover the pair's year-long absence from the Jeffersonian/Hoover. Rated T to be safe.
1. Identity Crisis

**So, after the overwhelming cry for a sequel to "Vanishing Point" here it is. This story will take place over the year that Booth and Brennan spend apart from the Jeffersonian/Hoover, so if you haven't read "Vanishing Point" you might want to just to get an idea of the background story. As a point of clarification, Brennan is serving as Project Coordinator for Stateside activities on the Maluku Project, working out of Old Dominion's research facilities, which are located in Quantico, VA. Booth is also working in Quantico, VA, at the FBI Academy, which is more commonly called simply "Quantico." Hope you all enjoy this new journey!**

**Gum :)**

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**Horizon Line**

Chapter 1: Identity Crisis

"Run!" Special Agent Seeley Booth yelled in his girlfriend's ear.

Dr. Temperance Brennan analyzed the situation in a split second and broke to her left. The man pursuing her fell for the ruse and before he could correct himself she abruptly changed directions and ran into the open gap ahead.

"Gotcha!" a triumphant voice said from behind, as two hands grabbed at her shirt.

Her forward momentum was halted, as the fabric was grasped and she let out a laugh, stopping to catch her breath.

"You tricked Uncle Jared, but not me," Parker Booth bragged, releasing her.

"I'll get her next time," a winded Jared promised.

"Not a chance, dirtbag," Brennan smirked, then looked back down at Parker. "Was that appropriate garbage talk?"

Parker giggled and nodded, "Yeah, but it's called 'trash' talk, Dr. Bones."

"Ah," Brennan nodded.

She tossed the football clumsily back to Booth, who snatched it out of the air and gave her a thumbs up.

"Nice fake out," he complimented, then spoke louder. "First and goal! You dirtbags better watch it!"

Brennan and Booth lined up across from Jared and Parker once more and Booth hiked the ball. This time, they faked the hand off and she broke early enough to evade both defensemen and cut left into the marked end zone. The two communicated solely with their eyes as Booth's perfect spiral zipped cleanly through the air and into her waiting hands.

"Yes!" he pumped both fists in the air, jogging over to give her a high five.

A grin split her face as their palms met and he pulled her in for a congratulatory hug.

"Aw, no fair, you did that creepy eye thing," Parker groused.

"We'll get 'em back, kiddo," Jared promised, ruffling the boy's hair.

"That's what you said the last two times!" Parker rolled his eyes.

"Come and get it!" a gravely voice sounded from beyond the playing field.

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" Parker yelled before taking off toward his great-grandfather.

"Should we race him?" Brennan wanted to know.

"Nah," Booth slung an arm around her, palming the football with his other hand. "We'll let him have this one." He flicked the ball in Jared's direction just before calling out, "Think fast."

The younger Booth brother put his hand up instinctively and caught it, then told his brother to go long and waited until Seeley had jogged a good distance away before snapping the ball to him. Booth caught it, then immediately threw it back, this time much harder than before.

Brennan kept her slow pace and watched, fascinated as the interplay continued between the brothers, the throws escalating in velocity as they went on. Just before they reached the grove of picnic tables

Jared tucked the ball close to his body, lowering his head as he charged toward Booth.

Booth lowered his center of gravity as well, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Jared came toward him. In a series of pivots that left even analytical Brennan unable to anticipate what would happen next,

the two men danced around each other until Booth grabbed Jared and attempted to wrestle him to the ground. Jared, far from conceding the match, broke free, sprinting past Booth and spiking the ball just

shy of where Padme stood with a plateful of hamburgers.

Parker laughed as his uncle's fiancee chewed Jared out and Booth made a mocking face at him. Jared retaliated by taking a glass of water from the table and flinging it in Seeley's direction. It caught him

square in the chest and he immediately reached for the larger cooler.

"Boys!" the gruff voice of Hank Booth sounded. "That's enough. Seeley, go get your son washed up and Jared, you can finish setting the table and pour the drinks. Chop, chop!"

Brennan chuckled and shook her head as the men hung their heads like chastened boys and obeyed their grandfather.

"Have they always been like that?" Padme asked Brennan softly.

"In the few years I have known both of them, yes," she nodded."Though Hank assures me that they also share a deep affection for one another."

"It's like they're afraid to let that secret out, Padme agreed.

Brennan gave a knowing smile, "And they refuse to acknowledge that if something is known by all parties involved it is no longer a secret."

"Your woman is talking about us, Seels," Jared called out loudly as Booth and Parker reemerged.

"Don't let her hear you call her that," Booth winked, putting a possessive arm around her nonetheless.

"Behave," the object of conversation elbowed him gently in the ribs.

One final glare from Hank was all that was needed to squelch any further barbs and the group sat down to eat. As had happened at other Booth family gatherings that Brennan had attended in the nearly two

months that she and her partner had been dating, Hank bowed his head and led them in a brief prayer. This one was more patriotic in nature in commemoration of Memorial Day and both brothers were solemn at its conclusion.

The food distracted them further and for the first several minutes nothing but the clatter of plastic dishes being passed back and forth could be heard. As the food was consumed, conversation began anew with compliments to Hank and Padme for the hamburgers and to Brennan for her seven-layer dip and fresh fruit salad.

When they were sufficiently sated Booth produced one apple and one cherry pie from the diner for dessert to the delight of Parker. He teased Brennan about indulging in a slice with them for the holiday

before revealing the rather generous slice of chocolate cake he'd gotten just for her.

"I wish you and Dad could stay longer," Parker lamented as he helped Brennan gather the trash and throw it out.

"We aren't leaving for Quantico until the end of the week, Parker," she said gently, "and your mother has allowed you to stay through the holiday weekend and will bring you over again before we leave."

"We're only an hour away, Bub," Booth added. "So we'll still get our weekends and I'll still be at the rest of your games."

"Will you come too, Bones?" The boy looked expectantly up at her.

"I will attempt to," she promised.

"And if your uncle doesn't forget me I'll be there too, Squirt," Hank told him. "Not every year our boy's team makes the playoffs."

"Yup," Parker nodded eagerly, "we might even make it all the way to the World Series this time!"

A brief explanation was given to Brennan and Padme about the Little League World Series and the requirements for getting that far in the tournament. Several humorous anecdotes from Seeley and Jared's playing days were related by Hank throughout the rest of the afternoon and the

day ended with a game of catch between the three younger Booths before nightfall forced them to stop.

That night at Booth's apartment, the couple put a very sleepy Parker to bed with little hassle and sat down to watch a movie. Halfway through, Booth looked down to ask his girlfriend what she thought of it so far, only to find her fast asleep on his shoulder. She woke up slightly when he turned the TV off but gave no argument when he led her back to the bedroom.

Memorial Day proper dawned bright and sunny and they were all up and going in time to get a good spot for the wreath-laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington. Brennan watched as Parker naturally emulated his father's ramrod posture and stoic silence during the proceedings.

"Do you regret not taking the position with the Army?" she asked later as Parker walked ahead of them out of the cemetery.

Booth shook his head, "Nah. I'm not saying it was the easiest thing in the world for me to turn down, but it was the right choice for me." She followed his eyes as he gazed wistfully at his young son.

"You're a good father," she smiled up at him, squeezing his hand to reenforce her words.

He squeezed back and thanked her, then called Parker over to climb in the car. With great excitement, Parker informed Brennan that their next stop would be the diner for a quick bite to eat before they went to stand in line for the DC Memorial Day parade. Because of Booth's military and law enforcement contacts, they had a very good vantage point and both Booth boys proudly provided commentary throughout the three-hour long event for Brennan whether she wanted it or not. Afterward, they dropped Parker off at Rebecca's so that he could attend her family gathering that night, and headed out to dinner with Booth's friends, Mordacai and Annie Christman.

They spent most of dinner at the outdoor restaurant overlooking the Potomac River in light conversation recalling some of the more pleasant memories in the men's shared military background. As they lingered over coffee and dessert, however, the talk turned to the younger couple's upcoming move, as well as the teaching responsibilities Booth would be sharing with his former mentor over the summer. Chris and Annie had helped them select a small house to rent over the next year not far from the military school or Old Dominion's research facility and were planning on aiding in the move-in process as well once their belongings arrived on Friday.

It was late and the restaurant all but kicked them out as they left, and since Brennan's apartment was closest, that's where they went after bidding the Christmans farewell. The rest of the week promised to be a flurry of activity as they moved back and forth between the two apartments, determining which items would be moved down with them and which would stay and put in their final days at their current jobs.

Neither one of them had wanted to opt out of their existing leases, so they wouldn't have to rent long-term storage units. To Brennan's surprise, the financial arrangements once they moved had been relatively simple to work through. Booth's pay at Quantico came with a housing stipend since he wouldn't be staying on base so the new lease was put into his name, while Brennan would cover the cost incurred by utilities and other incidentals. They would each contribute money toward food. Booth was thrilled to discover he got to keep his company car, though Brennan argued they should really use her Prius for their daily commute as it consumed less gas.

Tuesday night the guys from Booth's hockey team took him to a downtown sports bar to send him off since he decided it would be too much to try and squeeze bi-weekly hockey practices that were an hour away into his packed teaching schedule. He had a great time, though Brennan let him go on his own while she worked late at the lab tying up the last of her responsibilities to the Jeffersonian before she left.

Wednesday it was the squint higher-ups who threw a goodbye luncheon for Brennan while Booth finished up at the Hoover, though with Hodgins and Angela in Paris it wasn't nearly as enjoyable for her and she ended up having a much better time when she and Booth met Cam and Sweets later that night for drinks at the Founding Fathers.

Thursday was their last official day as partners and they spent it doing paperwork for Caroline and being warned by the prosecutor that she would be getting in touch with them as their cases came up for trial throughout the year.

"Now this," Booth said, taking a big bite out of his burger at the diner, juice dripping down his chin, "I'm gonna miss."

"It's not as if we're moving across the country, Booth," Brennan rolled her eyes and handed him a napkin.

"Yeah, but we won't be in every day either," he countered, "and you'll miss it too, you know you will."

"Perhaps," she hedged, "though to be honest I've always appreciated the company over the food and that won't be changing."

"Nope," a wide grin split Booth's face. "You all ready to live in sin with me, Bones?"

"You're mean," she pretended to pout while snatching a fry from his plate.

"But you love me, Baby," he winked.

Brennan muttered blackly at him for calling her Baby in public, but couldn't stay mad when he offered the rest of his fries. They bantered back and forth over the rest of the meal, stretching it out far beyond the usual time frame. Eventually, there were no more fries, or slices or pie, or cups of coffee; just the two of them.

"It's irrational for us to prolong this any further," she said when he started trying to balance the saltshaker on one edge.

"Right," he nodded, "I mean, we'll still see each other every day, so it's not like we're breaking up."

"We're moving in together," she pointed out. "That's far from breaking up."

"Exactly."

"Precisely."

As one, they stood and Booth threw down a wad of bills before they turned and left. The heavy pall between them, however, didn't lift, and instead of walking back toward the SUV, they linked arms and began idly strolling in the opposite direction. Around them the city pulsed as the night life picked up, but they said nothing, just kept walking until they were free of the noise.

The Mall was as serene as ever, the nearly full moon reflecting brightly in the still water of the Pool as the two were drawn to it. They walked its length until they were engulfed in the shadow of the Lincoln Monument, then they climbed halfway up the stairs and stopped, sitting down side by side to take in the view.

"I don't do well with change," Booth was the first to break the silence.

"Neither do I," she said quickly.

"Pyramids are better with change than you, Bones," he scoffed teasingly, then put up a hand to halt the fist making its way to his shoulder. "I mean that in an affectionate way."

"Affectionate?" she arched an eyebrow.

He shrugged and threw her a charm smile for good measure, then leaned in to peck her on the forehead. In the meantime, she'd tilted her head so it was her lips that met his and she almost immediately deepened the kiss, arms wrapping around him.

"Now that," she said breathlessly several minutes later, "was something done in an affectionate manner."

"I stand corrected," he smirked. "Though I might need you to repeat that so I don't forget it."

"I'm going to miss working with you," it was her turn to be candid.

He nodded mutely at the abrupt change of topic, unsure there was anything more for him to add.

"I fully realize we will be shifting into the cohabitation phase of our personal relationship," she was babbling nervously now, "but at the same time I've become quite accustomed to our professional partnership and to lose that-"

"Hey," he cut her off gently, brushing his thumb along her jaw, "we'll still be partners, Bones, just a different _kind_ of partners, that's all. You can't get rid of me that easy."

"The center didn't hold," she whispered so low he almost didn't catch it.

"Yes it did," he tried to reassure her.

"Booth," she met his eyes, shaking her head stubbornly. "Angela and Hodgins are gone, Sweets is no longer engaged, Cam is currently interviewing prospective forensic anthropologists, and you and I will be working at two separate locations doing two separate jobs."

Undaunted, he smoothed her hair with one hand and smiled down at her, "You and I will be sharing a home together as of tomorrow, Cam said she was pretty sure she'd just stick with Clark to govern the squinterns, Sweets will hopefully find someone who doesn't annoy the crap out of everyone but him, and before you know it Ange and the bug man will be back from their honeymoon and we'll all go back to doing what we always do."

"We're very good at our jobs," she smiled weakly back at him.

"Damn straight," he smirked. "We're the best that ever was or will be."

"That's not quantifiable," she corrected out of habit.

"Yup, but you know it's true anyway," he said, offering her a hand as he stood to leave.

She took his hand and he hauled her to her feet, holding her close for a long moment, then stepping forward to lead her back down the steps.

"It's kinda funny if you think about it," he said when they finally got back to the SUV, "because for years we told everyone that we were 'just partners' and now that we're more than that, we're technically not partners any more."

"So what are we?" she wondered out loud.

"Us, Bones," he said confidently. "We're just _us_."


	2. Little Pink Houses

Chapter 2: Little Pink Houses

It was no surprise to anyone who know Booth and Brennan that the couple would tackle moving in two totally different ways.

Brennan's was the more logical approach. She'd packed all but the bare essentials a full week before they were to leave. Neatly packed boxes were numbered and labeled according to content and room assignment. Select artifacts that would be accompanying her were carefully stowed in their appropriate packaging and great research had gone into hiring reliable movers. Friday morning at eight she had overseen their work with every bit as much attention to detail as she did the FBI techs a crime scene, then she'd followed them down in her own car and supervised the unloading process as well.

Booth on the other hand, was more relaxed. The last week they were in DC he'd thrown things in boxes when he was home; though the majority of things he let slide until very late Thursday night and early Friday morning. His moving crew was a group of guys from his hockey team and Sweets- who did more directing then lifting. Parker and Jared had come later in the afternoon to help with the last-minute things Booth had realized he'd forgotten on the first trip, and when it was clear Brennan was getting stressed out at the unloading process, Booth volunteered his brother and son to check out the townhouse community's pool while he calmed her down.

"Just take a deep breath," he soothed, relieving her of her clipboard and setting it on top of an unopened box. "We don't have to have everything unpacked and set up tonight."

"We've barely started unpacking," she shook her head in disgust. "And it's very difficult for me to be certain that everything important is here when I encounter boxes that are not only unlabeled, but are unorganized as well."

"So I stink at packing, but we're an hour away from DC if we need to grab more stuff, okay?" he said softly. She nodded, though not convincingly, so he pulled her close and met her eyes, "You and I are here and so is Parker; that's all that's important for right now. Come with me for a minute."

He took her by the hand and led her through the maze of boxes and furniture and out the front door. When they were outside he turned her around, standing behind her with a hand on each of her shoulders.

"What do you see, Bones?" he spoke so only she could hear him.

"A house," she answered precisely, "composed of bricks, mortar, wood, and containing a large mess to be sorted out."

"All true," he agreed, "but you wanna know what I see?" Her head bobbed up and down and he whispered a single word into her ear, "Home."

It was a great home too, Booth smiled to himself as she leaned back into him, relaxing for the first time since they'd arrived. After what seemed like an endless search they'd settled on renting an end unit townhouse with three bedrooms and a spacious floor plan. They had both liked that a full-sized washer and dryer came with the place, along with a dishwasher, microwave, fridge, and a range. That the tub in the master bathroom had jets made Booth okay with giving up his big tub back in DC for a year, and Brennan's initial comment on the tub when they had come down for a tour of the place was that it looked more than big enough for two.

Outside, neatly manicured lawns and flowerbeds were maintained in the front yard by the neighborhood association, which meant they were only responsible for the small fenced yard in the back. A postage stamp yard to mow didn't offend Booth at all, nor did the large patio in the back with the built-in fire pit. The people who had leased the place before Booth and Brennan were moving back into the city and had offered them their patio furniture and barbeque grill at a good price. Aside from that, the community boasted a pool, weight room, playground, and tennis courts for them to make use of. While Booth still thought it would've been a better investment to buy rather than lease, he had to admit they were at least getting a lot for their money.

All of a sudden, his lips curved and he reached for Brennan, who found herself being whisked off of the ground and into his powerful arms.

"Booth," she squealed, batting at him. "What are you doing? Put me down this instant!"

Her actions were to no avail, though, and the more she squirmed and fought, the tighter his hold on her became. A part of her knew how strong Booth truly was given his musculature but he so rarely demonstrated it in full it always took her by surprise when he did. Right now his arms were like bands of steel and he acted as if she weighed nothing as he opened the front door and strode through it.

Then, as if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary, he set her down gently and captured her lips in a brief but passionate kiss.

"Care to explain yourself?" she asked when they separated, her hands settling on her hips despite the fact that the rest of her body was responding viscerally to his show of brute strength.

"Oh come now," he scoffed, tapping her playfully on the nose, "surely I don't need to explain the implications of a man carrying a woman over the threshold of their new home to world-renowned forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan, do I?"

"I'm not your bride," she pointed out. "And by that logic I suppose I should count myself fortunate that you didn't bludgeon me with a club and drag me to some cave," she intoned dryly.

"We can try that tomorrow, Baby," his grin was wide, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Oh, you!" she swatted his bicep smartly, wrinkling her nose.

"Right," suddenly he was all business, "so what do we do next?"

"Next?" she was slightly caught off guard.

"Yeah," he nodded, "you want to get us moved in and organized. So what's the next step? How can I help?"

For the next two hours they worked side by side, moving boxes into the rooms they belonged in and setting up Parker's room so that he would have a place to sleep. Partway though Jared dropped off a waterlogged Parker and headed back to the city hoping to beat the worst of rush-hour traffic. While Booth and Brennan worked downstairs, Parker began working on making his new room his own.

Around six o'clock, Chris and Annie dropped in bearing an armload of Chinese food, a devil's food cake with chocolate icing that Annie had made herself, and a few bags full of groceries so that they wouldn't have to go out and buy food right away. The older couple took to Parker immediately and patiently let him show off all of the new things he'd gotten for his room.

Once Parker was in bed the men worked on arranging the furniture- including all of the bookshelves Brennan had brought along- while the women got to work on organizing the kitchen.

"When Chris was in the military we moved all over the place," Annie shared as they worked, "and the first room I'd always do was the kitchen because when everyone's well fed, the rest just falls into place."

"Booth definitely enjoys his food," Brennan nodded.

The two women swapped stories about Booth and his voracious appetite, eventually talking just about him. Brennan found it very interesting to hear what he had like just after his Army days. The blackjack playing, pool hustling side of him was one that she'd only gotten a glimpse of during that very first case they'd worked and then again when they went undercover in Las Vegas, but that was, in a way, the only Booth that Chris and Annie had known until they'd reconnected just a couple of months ago. The older woman confided that she thought of Booth as a son and was proud of the man he'd become.

"We have any food around here?" Booth asked as he moved right to the fridge and started rummaging around it.

"See what I mean?" Brennan smiled knowingly at Annie.

Booth looked between the two of them, then shrugged and pulled out a carton of orange juice and took a long swig. "Good stuff," he commented, putting it back in the fridge.

"That's completely unhygienic," Brennan complained.

"Not like we don't swap spit already," he winked. "Why dirty a glass?"

"It's the sanitary thing to do," she insisted.

Neither one of them saw Chris join his wife and watch, bemused, while the younger couple stood in the kitchen bickering about how Booth had used her toothbrush on occasion when he couldn't find his, and the dirty underwear that he constantly left on his bedroom floor for days at a time, and the open jars of peanut butter that sat on his counters until he remembered to put them back on.

"Much as we'd love to stay and watch you two play verbal ping-pong all night," Chris put in when they paused for a moment, "it's getting later and time for us old folks to be getting to bed."

"He's the old one," Annie retorted with a poke at her husband's ribs. "But we probably should get going."

Booth and Brennan thanked the Christmans for their help and for the food and goodbyes were exchanged. For a long moment after they were left alone, they looked at one another, then smiled at the absurdity of the argument they'd just had. Booth put his arm around her waist and asked if she was ready to see all that he and Chris had accomplished, then led her through the small foyer and into the large room that would serve as both dining room and living room.

"Oh good, you left the open space along the wall that I requested," she commented.

"Yup," he smiled, then frowned. "You aren't having that creepy mummy from your office sent here are you?"

She shook her head, "No, that would require a controlled climate that would be difficult to maintain here. I _do_ have another piece of furniture scheduled to arrive late tomorrow afternoon, however; as well as a few other personal items."

"Well, we've got the space all ready for it, whatever it is," he told her. "Oh, and I wasn't even going to guess where you want all of your books and knickknacks, so they're still in the boxes."

"That's fine," she sounded slightly relieved. "They're not knickknacks, though, they're artifacts. Knickknacks are the colloquial term for what _you_ collect."

"Sweets says I'm a level one hoarder or something like that," Booth said, sprawling out on the couch and pulling her down into his lap. "I say he's full of crap."

"You have amassed an inordinate amount of inane objects," she teased.

"Inane to you, maybe, but I can tell you the story behind each and every one of them," he boasted, then pointed across the room. "Like that hutch over there was Nana's. She got it from her mom who had it imported from England and the upper left hand pane is missing because Jared shot it out firing his BB gun in the house one rainy summer."

"An incident in which I'm sure you were free from guilt," she arched an eyebrow.

"Hey," he waggled his own suggestively, "I hit what I aim for." A wistful smile spread across his face, "Didn't matter, though, 'cause she made us both scrub the bathrooms with a toothbrush once a week 'til we went back to school in the fall."

"How hygienic of her," Brennan muttered, earning her a tickle in the ribs.

Booth continued regaling her with tales, such as how he had procured the hand-carved table and chairs from Sully without having to pay for them, and why he had started his collection of vintage tin signs. Finally, one of Booth's cuckoo clocks on the wall informed them that it was eleven, and they both agreed that it had been long day and they were ready to start winding down for the night.

At the top of the steps they wove through more boxes; these containing towels and linens waiting to be put in the hall closet. Booth checked in on Parker, who was sleeping peacefully, then waved Brennan into the spare bedroom that would double as their shared office to show her what had been done there.

When the overhead light came on, she noticed the two sturdy wooden desks they'd found at a secondhand store sat in the center of the room facing each other, each with its own lamp and office chair. A series of smaller bookshelves lined the perimeter and housed their combination printer/scanner/copier/fax machine, along with extra paper and some of the books Booth was using in his classes. Both of their laptops were also set up; the wireless router flickering green and blue, signaling its readiness.

Complimenting him on a job well done, she turned off the light and headed back through the hall and its clutter. A few barked shins later they arrived at their bedroom and Booth ushered her in, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

His California king-sized bed stood waiting for them- there at his girlfriend's insistence that Booth's back shouldn't have to adjust to a new mattress that may or may not've been as comfortable as his own. She'd even gone out of her way to pay her moving guys to pick it up at his apartment that morning.

He was never more thankful that she'd argued for them setting up the beds while Parker was still at the pool and making them up so that they'd be ready for them tonight. In no time flat he shucked all but his boxers and crawled under the covers, his body relaxing as it sunk into the familiar surface. It relaxed even further when Brennan finished her nightly routine in the en-suite bathroom and joined him.

"So tomorrow," she began as soon as the lights were off, "we have Parker's game at eleven and I estimate we'll have to leave here no later than eight in order to pick Hank up. Rebecca will meet us there, as will Jared and Padme- Are you listening to me?"

"Leave at eight. Pick up Pops. Meet everyone else there. Film at eleven," he rattled off the basics, pulling her close.

"That's correct, though if you want to see a movie, that will have to be later."

He was too tired to correct her and instead mumbled, "Time to sleep, Bones."

But she wasn't done. "Did Parker pack his uniform?" she wanted to know next. "And the rest of the equipment he requires?"

"It's all there," he assured her. "Sleep."

She quieted, burrowing herself further under the blankets and into his embrace. He was just about asleep when she turned in his arms to face him again.

"I think we forgot-"

This time he decided it was best to intervene directly and he cut her off, giving her lips something far better to do than talk. It didn't take long for her to switch her full attention onto the kiss and when he pressed her lips parted right away for his tongue. It was a lazy, languid kiss, full of the same ease and familiarity they'd shared for years and a tenderness she revealed only to him. He wished his lips could stay on hers all night.

"Sleep tight, Bones," he whispered when they finally pulled apart, dropping one last kiss into her hair and turning her gently back around so that he could hold her close.

"Booth?" her voice drifted up to him.

"Yeah, Bones?" he sighed, wondering if he'd ever get sleep at this point.

"Welcome home."


	3. Game On

Chapter 3: Game On

Saturday morning was a flurry of activity, but thanks to Chris and Annie's grocery gifts the night before they had cereal, milk, bread, and eggs on hand, along with the tainted orange juice; which Brennan insisted Booth had to drink all by himself. Father and son both rolled their eyes at her but she remained steadfast and warned them both that any future recurrences would come with consequences should they be found out.

One of the things Booth loved about living in Quantico was that they were only five minutes from Pops' retirement community. It was the closest the two had lived since he was in high school and Booth was looking forward to spending more time with him. Pops was outside and ready to go when they got there and insisted on sitting in the back seat with Parker, where he proceeded to regale them all with stories from Seeley's baseball days.

When they got to the field, Booth and Parker went to play catch with the rest of the team while Brennan and Hank picked out seats in the bleachers. As planned, Rebecca, Jared, and Padme met them there a few minutes before the game was scheduled to start, and Brennan was glad for the company when Booth ended up having to fill in as the third base coach.

The teams were evenly matched and the score was tied going into the final inning. Parker was on the home team, meaning they were in the field to start. The first batter up swung wildly at the first two pitches, but the third time he connected solidly with the ball and it jumped off of his bat and over the left-fielder's head for a triple. Clearly rattled, the pitcher for Parker's team walked the next man up, and then let up a single, scoring the go-ahead run from third.

Encouraging cheers rang out from the stands as Parker was selected to replace the pitcher and they increased in volume as he proceeded to retire the side without any more runs scoring. The damage, however, had been done, and Booth and the head coach gave the boys a quick pep talk as they prepared for their final at-bat.

The outcome did not look good when the first batter went down on strikes, but the second got a single, and the next was walked. Parker was up next and looked extremely intent as he stepped into the batter's box. He swung at the first pitch he got and while it wasn't the prettiest thing, it squirted through the hole between the second baseman and the shortstop to advance the runners. The boy after Parker hit a long fly ball that was caught, but it was deep enough that Booth sent the runner on third home to tie the score.

Excitement and tension buzzed around the tiny field as the coaches on both sides encouraged their teams to stay focused. Five pitches later the count stood at three balls and two strikes, and the crowd jumped to their feet as the ball was hit, sitting back down as it curved foul. Another pitch was offered and this time when the ball pinged off of the aluminum bat it stayed fair and shot into right field. Legs churned around the base-paths as quickly as they could as Booth waved them home.

By the time the ball was retrieved and thrown back to the infield it was too late and Parker and his teammates were celebrating at home plate. They all lined up and congratulated one another on the well played game before another, louder celebration took place. Parker's small cheering section joined the rest of the players' friends and family on the field, bombarding him with hugs and high-fives all around.

The pandemonium only increased when the coach announced they would be celebrating the win at a local ice cream establishment. Over two hours later, a still enthusiastic Booth gave a very sugar-high Parker one last hug before they had to leave, promising him he and Brennan would see him at his next game.

Apparently the game and all its excitement had drained the spectators too as Booth found himself the only one still awake by the time they were back at the retirement community. By some miracle, he managed to get Pops inside and drive to their townhouse without Brennan ever stirring. She did wake up when he picked her up to take her inside and teased him about his making a habit out of carrying her in.

Free of any obligations, they lounged on the couch until the moving van Brennan was expecting arrived. To Booth's delight they unloaded a tall wooden entertainment center and a 42" Plasma screen TV, with a Blu-ray player to boot. Brennan smiled sheepishly when he accused her of spoiling him and mumbled something about how good her nature documentaries would look on it. Booth's mind was far from documentaries, though, and the first thing they did when the movers left was head to the store for him to get their Blu-ray collection started.

Neither one of them felt like cooking, so they grabbed take-out on the way home and settled in for the night. She claimed the TV first, but mercifully chose only a short documentary that Booth had to admit didn't look half bad even though he was bored to tears. His movie choice was Iron Man, and it turned out just fine that it was later so they could watch it in the dark and get the full effect.

"I enjoyed it," she admitted as they readied for bed. "Though the science was preposterous."

"Which is why they call it science-_fiction_, Bones," he laughed. "And if you liked that we can catch the sequel at the movies tomorrow night. Parker and I saw it when it first came out and it's amazing!"

"Fine," she agreed with a nod, "though not tomorrow. We have the welcoming banquet to attend for the Maluku Project Foundation."

Booth groaned. "Who schedules a banquet for a Sunday night?"

"That was my call, actually," she admitted with a shrug. "I told them that I already had plans for today and would not be available until Sunday night. Why, when should I have said?"

"Never?" he grinned hopefully through a mouthful of toothpaste. He finished brushing and shook his head, then eyed her, "Wait, why were you on the planning committee?"

"I'm not," she laughed. "Generally banquets aren't held without the guest of honor."

"You get a whole banquet?" Booth looked incredulously at her.

"Well I am the lead stateside coordinator for one of the most promising scientific dig sites in modern history," she said as if he should know that already. "Not to mention I _am _on the finance committee and several benefactors and key potential donors were invited. This will be the official kick-start to the team's work."

"Of which you're the head."

"Exactly."

"So you get a banquet?"

"I believe we've already established that, yes," her lips quirked.

"All I got was one of those fruit bouquet thingies," he grumbled.

"Yesterday you were thrilled when you received that," she reminded him as they climbed into bed. "You said it was the best fruit you'd ever eaten and you consumed the vast majority of it."

"Jared helped," he insisted, "and besides, that was before I knew what you got."

"Booth, you despise the endless tedium that surrounds events such as this not to mention you always complain about the food," she consoled him.

"Oh," his face dropped at the reminder. "Will there at least be dancing? Wait! I don't have a tux, you know."

"Plenty of dancing and we're picking a tux up for you tomorrow," her smile was genuine. "If you ask me though with all of the formal events we go to you should invest in one of your own that's custom-tailored."

He caught the gleam in her eye and his smile grew too, "Hmm, I think you just want to ogle my hot bod in a custom-tailored tux, Dr. Brennan."

"That is entirely possible, Agent Booth," she leered back, lips hovering over his as they inched closer together.

"So what were these plans you had for tonight?" he asked innocently. "'Cause Parker's game was this morning and you knew we'd be home by dinner."

"I believe there is a custom associated with moving into a new home that involves 'breaking in' various rooms in the house," she told him. "I was thinking we could start with the bedroom at least."

"At least," he agreed. "And you should know I'm all about keeping moving-in customs."

She threw back her head and laughed throatily, then squealed as he pounced on her, pinning her to the soft mattress below him with his hips. Not bothering to fight him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled down, catching his lips with hers. He tried for long and passionate but she was in a slightly less inhibited mood and before long he gave up and enjoyed the ride.

They never did make it out of the bedroom that night, but late the next morning they did make it to the bathroom, and not long after lunch they tested out the kitchen. Eventually they had to get dressed, and pick up his tux, and leave for the banquet but by then he was so relaxed she could have dragged him to the opera and he would've been happy.

"How do I look?" she asked for the second time since they'd walked into the swanky ballroom that was hosting the event.

"Butt ugly," he teased. "No, seriously Bones, I think I'm going to have to take you home and strip you right now."

"You're mean, Seeley Booth," she swatted at him with her clutch purse. "First impressions are very important from what I've read and these are people with whom I need to make a good first impression."

"Bones, even the valet guys were checking you out, you don't have to worry," he waved away her concern, then realized the lighter approach wasn't working and pulled her off into a small alcove where they could be relatively alone. "What's wrong, Bones? Why are you so nervous?"

"This dinner is very important, Booth," her voice was low and laden with stress. "Much of my work during these first few months will be attending functions such as this in order to garner respect for the project so that it can maintain adequate funding. I'm not as good with people as you are and it's quite burdensome to think that in many ways the weight of the project's public relations rests on my shoulders."

"You're the queen bee of all the squints in the world, Bones, you'll be fine," his touch was as gentle as his voice.

"These will be wealthy patrons, Booth, not scientists," her head shook so fast it looked like was going to fly off her shoulders. "If it were simply my own colleagues I wouldn't be so concerned."

"Yeah, well you'll still be the smartest person in the room by a mile and you've got me to help you with the people stuff, okay?" he cupped her cheek in his palm.

"Okay," she was easing back toward her usual confidence level.

"No more freaking out on me?"

"Booth."

"Because I will take you home and strip you if you keep this up."

She rolled her eyes at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder before getting her game face on and brushing past him toward the main ballroom, exuding all the confidence he was used to as she muttered low enough only for him to pick up, "Not if I strip you first."


	4. Dinner and A Dunce

Chapter 4: Dinner and a Dunce

From the way she was handling herself, no one would've been able to tell just how nervous she had been coming in and Booth felt special for being privy to that side of her. When they'd entered, a waiter who looked like a human penguin in his tux showed Booth and Brennan to their seats at the head table and invited them to mill around the room until the festivities officially began.

Hungry from the light lunch they'd eaten earlier, Booth helped himself to the hors d'oeuvres as the servers came around, though he turned down the alcohol for the time being. He downed the food as fast as he could and went in search of his date.

Fortunately for Brennan, the first group of people to solicit her attention was the core team of scientists she would be working with for the next year. The group was composed of two women and four men besides herself; all of whom held at least two doctorates and whose disciplines ranged from anthropology to odontology.

By the time Booth found her she was deep in conversation with a guy who was maybe a little younger than her and obviously hanging on every word she said, and a bookish woman with a really bad overbite. Brennan laughed at something the guy said, making the jokester's face light up like a Christmas tree and Booth decided it was time to introduce himself.

"Hey, Bones, how's it going?" he asked, slipping an arm around her waist while trying not to seem too possessive.

"Booth," her smile was radiant and went all the way to her eyes.

"'Bones?'" Mr. Brown-Noser looked at Booth like he'd just called her something vulgar or crass.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, meet Drs. Victor Arnold and Judy Riker," Brennan started making introductions, hoping to smooth things over. "Dr. Arnold is our cultural anthropologist and Dr. Riker's specialty is entomology."

"Like Hodgins?" he asked.

"Jack and I went to grad school together," the other woman smiled in answer to him, offering a firm handshake. "And it sounds to me like you and my husband would hit it off well: he calls me 'Bug.'"

By this time the rest of the elite squint squad had taken an interest in him and more introductions were made. Neither Caleb Rush nor Drew Leaver- the team's historian and odontologist, respectively, were the kind of guys Booth would want to grab a beer with, but Brandon Cole, the archaeologist, seemed pretty normal, and so did the soft-spoken biologist, Sue Grey.

"And what is it you do, sir?" the British Rush asked Booth.

"I'm FBI," Booth answered simply, fingers itching to flash his badge but stopping short.

"Ah," the man nodded, looking down his nose. "You'll be handling our security operations, then?"

"Booth is the Special Agent in charge of the Major Crimes division in DC," Brennan all but leapt to his defense, making him feel a little bit better about the squint interrogation that he was stuck in, "and is currently serving as an instructor at Quantico. He and I have been partners for the last five years and our solve rate is thus far unparalleled in Bureau history."

"I see," Rush pursed his lips, clearly still unimpressed.

The other men were equally unmoved, though the women both nodded their approval.

"He holds a master's degree in literature from Georgetown as well," Bones went on, "and is a published author in that field, as well as a co-author in several of the leading forensic journals."

She probably would've kept going, but a bell-like chime sounded, announcing it was time to return to their seats for the meal.

"What was all that about, Bones?" he half-whispered as they made their way back across the room.

"It was clear some of the men didn't wish to respect you so I gave them grounds to," she shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Since when am I a published author?" he prodded.

"You published your master's thesis, didn't you?" she asked and he nodded mutely. "And the work we've done together has been published as well."

"Awful loose interpretation of the truth, there, Bones."

"It served its purpose."

"It was kinda hot too," he whispered in her ear as he tucked her chair into the table.

"Behave," she hissed back, though her eyes were shining with a hint of mischief.

Booth smirked, but kept quiet, setting in for the inevitably long pre-dinner speeches, almost all of which were directed at Brennan; thanking her for her willingness to lead such an important endeavor and so on and so forth. He could read in the minute shifts of her eyes and straightening of her posture that she was uncomfortable with so much attention being focused on her and was once again reminded that while she was extremely sure of who she was and her abilities as a scientist, she preferred to work in the background rather than have everyone staring at her.

After what seemed like an endless half hour it was her turn to give a speech. Her confident voice carried over the crowd easily and even though her speech was mercifully short, it was the most well-structured one of the night and he felt proud to be her guy. There was a round of applause as she sat down, then a moment of respectful silence, and the food was served.

The salad, Booth had to admit, was decent and the rolls were hot and fresh, but Booth's pot roast was dry and tasteless, and the chicken Bones gave him from her plate wasn't much better. He was glad he had filled up for the most part earlier, and thankful for the loaded baked potato that helped take any remaining edge off. In the past he and Bones would always end up at the diner after the fancy dinners were over and he was praying that here they could find a place that was open all night once they left.

The head table, unlike all of the others in the hall, wasn't round so there was not as much conversation taking place there; nor was Booth exactly sure what he would've said anyway since he was surrounded by scientists. That was just as well because it gave the pair time to debate exactly how Booth should be introduced for the rest of the night.

She nearly killed him when she suggested- quite earnestly- that she could call him her lover and once he'd gotten everything he'd been eating back down the correct pipes he'd quickly nixed the term, saying that it made it sound like he was paying her for something. On the other hand, she shot down calling him her boyfriend, claiming that was a term more suited to someone in their twenties, not pushing forty.

By the time dessert was served, they'd settled on "partner," not only because it was a term they were familiar with, but because that's what they were whether they were working together professionally or not.

"What about 'domestic partner?'" she wanted to know just as he put in his last bite of pie. "We are living together after all."

"That would only work if you were a guy too, and you aren't and I'm not gay, so no," he waved her off with his fork.

"So just partners?" she clarified.

"Well," he grinned slyly, "there's nothing 'just' about it, but yeah. Besides, people back home never bought that we were just partners anyway. Though if Vicky over there asks we're planning a wedding for June and discussing whether we want three kids or four."

"Vicky?" she looked at him, confused, then followed his gaze down the table. "Oh, you mean Victor Arnold?"

"Yup," he faked a smile at the blonde man who had waved when Bones turned in his direction.

"You feel threatened by him?" her brows knit together.

"Nope," he shook his head. "But I don't trust him, either. He was _way_ too friendly with you even after I came over. You saw how upset he was that I called you Bones, didn't you? And he knows I'm not anywhere near in your league, but he is."

"Why would you say something like that?" she was taken aback.

"Bones, in the time it took me to get my master's you already had three doctorates and my guess is Vicky's IQ is closer to yours than mine," he laid out the facts for her. "Trust me, he doesn't see me as anything more than your boy toy who he can easily replace."

"He was just being polite," she insisted.

"He's Daisy without the impulse-control issues."

"Booth!"

"It's true, Bones," a smirk curled up his cheek, "His nose is that brown he'd probably beat her hands down."

"Now you're just being petty and crude," she scolded, then relented when he intensified his gaze. "Fine. _If_ Dr. Arnold attempts to put a hit on me-"

"Hit on you."

"Whatever," her glare told him he was skating on thin ice. "I will inform him that I am perfectly content and satisfied in my relationship with you- the man I _live_ with. The man I _love._"

"Aw, I love you too, Bones," he flashed her a charm smile and pressed a kiss to her hand.

Before they could say any more, she was called on to meet some donor or another and off they went. He trailed her around the room, pressing the flesh and making small talk with people who made more money than he would ever see in his lifetime.

Beside him, Bones was in top form. She'd done her homework, apparently, because she called each and every person they met by name and had at least a cursory knowledge of what they did for a living and the rhetoric she needed to give them on the Foundation's behalf was amended accordingly. Sure, she wasn't perfect, but it was clear that she was a lot better at this sort of thing than she gave herself credit for and he knew she didn't really need him there no matter what she claimed.

Just when we was sure he couldn't fake one more smile or shake one more hand, they met up with a group of agents from Quantico who had been invited as a courtesy. It turned out that Booth and Brennan's partnership was something of a legend at the FBI academy and they'd come with an invitation for the pair to guest lecture together at an upcoming seminar.

Bones politely promised to check their schedule, but when it was time to move on, she insisted that Booth should stay and enjoy himself. No matter how bored he was he didn't want to abandon her, but there was a stubborn edge to her eyes and voice so in the end he pecked her on the cheek and told her to knock 'em dead.

His eyes never strayed far from her for the first several minutes, but soon the guys offered to get him a drink and it wasn't long before he was relaxed and swapping stories with them. He didn't look up again until the live band came on and the dance floor started to get busy. Scanning the crowd for the only woman he wanted to dance with, however, he found that she was surrounded by a large group of important-looking people and he knew she wouldn't be free anytime soon.

One by one all but the two married agents he was with made their way to the dance floor. He contented himself for a while, nursing his beer and admiring her from across the room, but eventually that wasn't good enough and he excused himself and went to her.

"You holding up okay?" he asked quietly when she'd finished with yet another cluster of patrons, offering her the glass of wine he'd gotten on his way over.

Her, "I'm fine, Booth," wasn't very convincing and he didn't know how she was managing to stay on her feet in those heels for so long.

They'd barely said hello when Marcie, the girl assigned as Brennan's personal aide on the project, came up to let her know there were a few reporters on hand who wanted a group photo of the seven main scientists, as well as a brief interview with her.

This time it was Booth's turn to step in on Brennan's behalf and he assured Marcie they would be over in a few minutes. When the partners were on their own again he suggested she take a couple of minutes to finish her drink and maybe head to the restroom to freshen up before they joined the others. To his surprise she agreed without a fight and when they in the hallway to the bathroom she leaned into him for a long moment.

"You're doing great out there," he encouraged, spanning her shoulders with his hands and kneading the tight muscles he found. "How much longer do you have to stay?"

Her shoulders shrugged halfheartedly as she rolled her neck to work out the kinks. "I'm not certain. I know after these journalists we're supposed to meet with at least three other groups and I believe something was said about doing a live interview for the local news."

"Need me to duck out and sneak in some real food?" he asked, knowing she'd eaten even less than he had during dinner.

She shook her head, "We can go somewhere afterward presuming we can find a place that's open. I'll be alright, Booth, honestly."

They exchanged a weary smile and stepped apart, then headed into the separate bathrooms. Somehow she beat him out, but she looked a lot more relaxed than she had before and was ready to take on the rest of the night.

There were more than just a couple of reporters waiting for her when they joined the main crowd again and the "few" snapshots turned into a full-blown photo shoot, plus the live news interview. Marcie was good at her job, though, and made sure that the reporters didn't monopolize any more time one-on-one with Brennan than she had allotted them.

"One of those yours?" a burly man with a full beard and a broad smile asked Booth.

"That one, Temperance Brennan," Booth nodded in Bones' direction and smiled. "You?"

"The one on the end, Judy Riker," he answered, throwing a wave at the bug lady Booth had met earlier, then offering Booth his hand. "I'm her husband, Will."

"Seeley Booth," he introduced himself. "You from around here?"

"New York," Will shrugged, "so it's not so bad. You?"

"DC."

They talked back and forth about the sports they watched, and the teams they rooted for, and how bad the food at dinner had been. Booth figured it couldn't hurt to get to know the guy since they'd be doing this kind of stuff together all year. Will was a freelance writer, which was why the move south hadn't been hard on him, and before that he'd be a sports columnist so the list of athletes he'd met and stories he had to share was vast. Still, after an hour and a half of making small talk, they both started wondering if they would ever be allowed to leave.

Judy was released first, since she didn't have to give as many interviews as Brennan and the couple bid him goodnight and made a bee-line for the door before anyone could tell her she had to stay. Bones wasn't that lucky for as soon as the reporters were done with her, she was whisked away to some big-wig who apparently had his checkbook out and was waiting specifically to talk to her.

This time instead of hanging back, Booth stepped up right beside her and rested his hand on her back in such a way that she could subtly lean on him for support. Patiently and politely, Brennan answered all of the man's questions, though more than once she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and the fire that had been in her eyes earlier in the night had cooled. Finally, the guy made a big show of writing his fairly decent sized check and then released them.

"Dr. Brennan, if you don't mind-" Marcie started to say.

"Actually I do," Brennan spoke up, surprising them all. "I will be more than happy to meet with anyone else who wishes to talk with me during my office hours." Having said her piece, she then turned from her aide to Booth, "Are you ready to go home?"

He nodded, unable to hide the smile when she all but grabbed his arm and hauled them away from the small cluster of people who still remained. They collected their things from the table and their coats from where they'd checked them and headed out to the car.

The early June night was crisp and clear and the stars twinkled brightly against the velvety sky. Brennan inhaled the fresh air deeply and leaned up against him as they paused to take in the view. He looked down when she seemed to slip several inches, then chuckled when he realized she'd taken off her heels.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, leaning her head back against his shoulder, "You have no clue."

Her stomach growled loudly, reminding them that they hadn't had anything decent to eat in a long time. With him walking on the sidewalk and her in the soft, cool grass they made their way back to the valet pickup and collapsed into the SUV when it was pulled around.

"I miss the diner," Booth said, pulling out onto the vacant street. "Look, it's almost midnight and I really don't feel like driving around until we find someplace that's open. Unless you want to."

"I want to go home," she told him plainly.

Just her use of that word in reference to them sent a thrill through him and he smiled warmly at her and nodded. She wasn't quite asleep when they pulled up to the house, but in no time at all she'd gone in, stripped off her fancy clothes, and was back downstairs rooting through the fridge. Too tired to bother with the stairs, Booth slipped off his shoes, jacket, and tie, loosening several of the buttons on his shirt too. Two or three buttons turned into four or five and at that point he decided that he was done with the thing for the night and took it completely off, leaving only his undershirt. He shucked the stiff pants too and scrounged through one of his boxes until he found a pair of sweatpants.

By the time he'd finished, Bones was coming out of the kitchen carrying two plates full of food and he intercepted her as they made their way over to the couch. In tandem they set the plates down on the coffee table and sank into the soft leather, just sitting there for a long moment before starting in on the food.

It was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich Booth thought he'd ever had in his life and he told her so. She laughed. There wasn't a lot of chatter as they ate, though at one point he did get a drink order from her and they toasted the glasses of cold, frothy milk before drinking them down. The coo-coo clock chimed one as they dragged themselves up the stairs and into bed.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to dance," she said, tucking her body into his as the darkness enveloped them.

"You were a busy lady," he wrapped his arms around her snugly and kissed the top of her head.

"Still," she yawned, "I wanted to as well, you know. You're a very good dancer."

They both quieted, each one thinking about the last dance they had shared- at her high school reunion- and how awkward it had been despite the fact that they had ended up nearly fused together by the end of the slow dance.

"When you don't leave room for the Holy Spirit, that is..." she baited him.

"Mmm, no room for Him now, is there," he growled softly in her ear.

She giggled as he flipped her over, pinning her to the mattress underneath him. He planted a trail of kisses from her shoulder, up her neck, across her jawline, and finally ending at her mouth. Their lips teased and tugged at one another, deepening for a bit, then pulling back slowly until they were simply spooning together again. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he would get his dance with her one way or another.


	5. Gettin Busy

Chapter 5: Gettin Busy

If Booth thought Sunday was hectic from Brennan, it was nothing compared to the rest of the week. While he puttered around the academy campus revisiting old haunts, attending staff meetings, and setting up his office, she was up at the crack of dawn and didn't come home until long after the sun had set. Sometimes she was up late in her home office too, getting the latest updates from the Maluku field team via video conference.

Back when they were in DC they'd talked about how nice it was that the lab and the academy were so close, thinking they would at least be able to snag lunch together most days. The reality was his lunch break was usually scheduled between meetings, while hers was squeezed in whenever she could get a spare moment. She even started packing a lunch to save time having to go buy one somewhere.

When she'd missed dinner Monday and Tuesday and told him Wednesday morning she'd be home late again, he'd started cooking for them at home and taking it to her office. They would eat and chat for a few minutes, then she'd plow back into her work while he hammered out lesson plans. Seeing how tired she was he'd insisted on driving her home that night, and Thursday and Friday nights as well.

The only time that was really theirs was from 5:30 to 7 in the morning. Both of them were early risers, but he'd been surprised Monday morning when she'd accepted his invitation to run with him around the neighborhood. Some mornings they spent the hour in silence, just enjoying the company; other days they talked the entire time about whatever was on their minds. Almost every run ended with one of the two of them egging the other into a full-out race back to the house and Booth had learned quickly that she was a fast sprinter who could beat him if he slacked off even a little.

Tired and sweaty they'd share a shower and sometimes something a little extra, then bolt down breakfast before heading off to work. It wasn't a lot compared to the hours they were used to sharing in DC, but it was theirs and they both enjoyed it.

On Brennan's end, she was enjoying her work too. The team that had been assembled was highly skilled and efficient at their jobs and held her in high esteem as well. Much of their time in the first half of the week was spent inspecting the facilities that they would be using and requisitioning whatever supplies and extra equipment they would be needing once the field unit starting sending samples of their findings back.

As administrator, it was also her job to draw up the procedural guidelines they would operate under for the duration of the assignment, and make sure that everyone understood their role within the community. As Booth had warned, Victor Arnold did flirt with her and attempt to ask her out, and she politely declined. When he switched tactics and tried to appeal to her by insulting Booth, she informed him that she was perfectly happy with Booth and was especially entranced by the fact that he was a former sniper with a permit to carry a concealed weapon.

Booth laughed when she relayed the conversation to him and when he came to the lab to bring her dinner Wednesday night he made sure that the sidearm on his hip was in full view as he walked past Arnold's station. Later that night, at home, she let him know that she also liked it when she could see the shoulder holster and he gave her a private viewing that ended with the holster- and the rest of their clothing- on the floor.

A part of her felt guilty about the lack of time she and Booth got to spend with each other. She'd known that early on she would be busy while much of his time was free while he waited for the summer classes to begin. And about the time she could work more predictable hours the fall classes would start and he would be the one bogged down with work. For the time being, however, she contented herself with their runs in the mornings and the dinners they shared at night.

"So what're we doing tomorrow, Bones?" he asked her Friday night as they sat eating dinner, his feet propped up on her office's coffee table.

"I have some work that I'll need to do," she informed him distractedly, trying to concentrate on the requisition form she was filling out, pausing every few minutes to take another bite.

"Uh uh, Bones," he shook his head. "It's Saturday. We're staying away from work and doing something fun."

"I have responsibilities to these people here, Booth," she looked up at him.

"Yeah, well, Sue already told me that you gave _them_ the weekend off, so you're giving you the weekend off too," he said smugly.

"Your grammar is horrible," she groused, coming over to him and gently shoving his feet off of the expensive table as she joined him on the small couch. "And you can't honestly expect me to waste an entire day."

"Not waste," his head waggled from side to side as he passed her a plastic container filled with fresh fruit salad. "Having fun is never a waste and it's a scientific fact that if people take the time to blow off steam they don't get as stressed."

"Since when have you cared about scientific facts?" she teased.

"Dr. Brennan," he huffed in mock horror, bringing a hand to his chest and speaking in his horrible imitation British accent, "I live for nothing _but _the facts. Such as the _fact _that you love me. And the _fact_ that ditching work for the weekend won't kill you or bring the project to a grinding halt. Not to mention the _fact_ that I went ahead and told the elite Squint Squad that unless Malpoopoo was swallowed up by a tsunami they were not to try and contact you over the next two days or I would shoot them."

"No you didn't," she pelted him with a grape.

He shrugged, eyes wide and innocent looking, then shot her a grin that told her he was teasing, popping the grape into his mouth, "I may have threatened to shoot Vicky."

"You didn't do that either," she shook her head, "and I'll have you know he's been nothing but professional the last two days."

"Still don't trust him," he said and she raised her eyebrows in question. "He smiles too much."

"Like a clown?" she poked his ribs so that she could reach past him to the thermos of soup.

"Exactly. Glad you agree."

"I don't, and don't think you've persuaded me to take the weekend off, either," she warned, sipping gingerly at the soup.

"Bones," he sat up straight, eyes focusing on her, voice serious, "I get that you are the big wig around here and that means lots of work, especially once the field team really gets going and sends you boatloads of stuff to authenticate. But I also know I've barely seen you at all this week, and you've got bags under your eyes that you cover up with makeup, and this is one of the few weekends you're not obligated to speak anywhere."

"Booth..." she started to protest and he put a finger to her lips.

"I'm not trying to control you or anything like that," he defended himself. "You have a habit of throwing yourself into these types of things and overdoing it, though, so just trust me when I tell you that you need to take a break. Just for two days."

She glared at him long and hard but he didn't budge an inch and the longer she considered his claims the more she knew he was correct. Even now she knew she would have to persuade her body to get up off of the couch and finish up the remaining tasks she had to complete.

"Fine," she gave a curt nod. "But I will need to check my email periodically and there are several more things I will need to accomplish tonight in order for a weekend off to be feasible."

"You do what you have to, Bones," his smile returned. "I'm gonna finish off some work of my own," he patted his laptop.

"Playing solitaire isn't work, Booth," she smirked, standing up slowly, "nor is hijacking the lab's wifi signal to watch sports highlights."

"If _somebody_ wasn't so predictable in their password choices it wouldn't be as easy for me to hijack it," he shot back. "I mean, _SeeleyB? _That's not exactly hard for me to crack there, Babe. Though I'll have you know it _is_ hard work being a Phillies' fan some nights. Trust me."

"You're incorrigible," she shook her head, sitting back down at her desk. "And _don't _call me Babe at work please."

He shot her a gleeful grin and looked like he was going to retort, but instead he decided to let the silence fall between them so that she could finish her work. Five forms, four reports, three phone calls, two lengthy emails, and a tall cup of coffee courtesy of one Seeley J. Booth later and she shut down the PC and began collecting her things.

Remnants from dinner littered the coffee table and she shook her head as she tiptoed around her sleeping partner to clean up the mess. His mouth was hanging open, a thin line of drool collecting on the arm of the couch where he head lay and he was curled up with the blanket from her office at the Jeffersonian. She smiled, recalling the boyish excitement in his eyes when he'd visited her new office for the first time and found the familiar blanket there. He claimed this couch wasn't as comfy as her other one, but that hadn't stopped him from sleeping on it either when the nights got late.

It didn't take long to tidy things up and when she finished she knelt down beside him, running her fingers softly through his hair and laying a kiss on his forehead. Instead of a forehead, however, his lips were on hers and it was soon clear he was far from asleep. As they kissed he sat up, pulling her into his lap and the only reason she let him continue was it was 11 and all of the others had long since left for the night.

"Now that's the way every weekend should start," he quipped when they separated several minutes later. "How come you never let me do that back home?"

"Because we are professional partners there and my office walls are primarily composed of glass," she laughed. "And so are yours."

"Blinds, Baby. We gotta start using them."

"Angela doesn't knock," she reminded him.

"She'll like the peep show, trust me," he nuzzled his face into her neck, planting wet kisses along its base.

"You realize we do have a house we can go to to continue this?" she asked. "With surfaces much more conducive to making out than this couch?"

"Good call, Bones," he kissed her one last time. "Let's go home and get this weekend started right!"


	6. Brain and Heart

Chapter 6: Brain and Heart

_ She was running, always running; as fast as she could, as far as she could. It took a moment for her to realized she wasn't running from anything but rather toward it. And the "it" wasn't an "it," it was a "who."_

_ Her chest heaved every time she stooped to peer in the rooms she was passing. When she was almost at the end of the corridor her ears pricked at the sound of a dull thudding against the metal wall up ahead. Willing her legs to churn faster and ignoring the burning sensation that spread up them, she raced toward the sound, pulling up short when she reached the source._

_ Booth's eyes were wide and full of fear as he pounded in vain on the door's small, circular window. Behind him an angry white wall of water was roaring directly at him. He caught sight of her and the pounding increased, his lips moving to shape her name, though she could her nothing but the dull thud of his fists._

_ Frenzied, she began looking for a handle on her side of the door. There was none and there was nothing in the hall to break the window with either. Her fists beat in time with his and she attempted the throw her body weight against the door. _

_ A cold dread filled her as she watched the water grow closer and closer. Their eyes locked, the inevitability of what was upon them clear and she watched all hope fade from his._

_ "I love you," his lips moved, his voice sounding in her head though her ears heard nothing._

_ The same fear that had paralyzed her that night outside of the Hoover- the one that told her all relationships are ephemeral and she would bring him nothing but pain- seized her and she couldn't return the sentiment no matter how much she longed to._

_ The wall of water hit him, crushing his body against the door and his face against the glass. _

_ "Booth!" she cried out in vain, first pressing, then beating her fists on the glass._

_ The light slowly faded from his eyes until the were void of all life. She backed away from the door, reeling with emotion and looked down to find her hands coated in blood- _

With his name on her lips she jerked, sitting straight up in bed; a cold sweat dripping down her brow. The space beside her was empty, the sheets cool, doing nothing for her pounding heart. Flinging back the covers she was on her feet quickly, eyes scanning for any sign of him. There was no light on in the bathroom or any of the other upstairs rooms, so she hurried down the steps.

The lower level was dark as well and she had to pick her way through the few boxes that remained unpacked. A pinprick of light came from the kitchen and she followed it, pushing down the apprehension of what she may or may not find at its source.

"You hungry too, Bones?" a very cheery, very alive Booth asked from his perch on a stool near the small table they'd brought from his apartment.

The partially-eaten sandwich in his hand dropped when he recognized the fear in her eyes and saw how heavily she was breathing. A moment later she was enveloped by his scent as his strong arms wrapped around her and she clung to him, inhaling deeply while he soothed her.

"Another nightmare?" he guessed when the worst of her trembling had stopped. "Okay, shh," he whispered as her head bobbed violently up and down. "You're safe now, Bones. I'm right here. I'm alive, see?"

He laid her hand on his chest, his heartbeat pounding steadily against it.

"So real," she finally managed, her fingers trailing along every plane on his body to convince herself that this was reality, not the ship and the water and his lifeless eyes.

"I've got you, Baby," his voice rumbled above her, lips pressing soft kisses in her hair.

Abandoning his sandwich, he led her into the living room and pulled her onto his lap as they sat down on the couch. Hating the feeling of weakness, but needing his touch, she allowed herself to curl into his body and be held. Booth sat, rocking and soothing her as best he could. At one point she took his face in her hands, feeling the stubble along his jawline before pulling him down to her for a long, emotional kiss, after which she curled back into him and lay still.

The nightmares surrounding her own Grave Digger kidnapping as well as his had been haunting her infrequently at least since the trial, and he suspected before that even. It had only happened one other time since Heather Taffett had been found guilty, and he'd been in the bed with her for that when she'd woken up screaming his name. A full week had passed before she'd been able to tell him what the dream was about: that she'd been forced to watch him drown and had been powerless to help.

His time in the Army had given him first-hand experience with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that he'd recognized it in her right away. Bones wasn't the type to go running off and pour her heart out to a shrink so instead of pushing her that way he just made himself open and available to her, giving her a safe place to fall apart emotionally when she couldn't hold it together any longer. This happened a handful of times and never once did he try and pry answers out of her, but rather waited patiently, and in the end was rewarded when she opened up to him slowly on her own.

That it had happened again tonight troubled him, but made him doubly glad he'd secured the weekend off for her. Looking down at her again he smiled. She'd fallen back asleep, her face as peaceful as a newborn's.

Carefully he readjusted his hold on her and stood. The only movement she made was to nestle her head in the crook of his neck and sigh contentedly. He made it up the stairs with no problem and laid her gently on her side of the bed. This time she stirred a little more when she left the warmth of his arms, but he stroked her hair and quickly moved around to his side and got in. Once they were both underneath the covers he gathered her in his arms and said a silent prayer for them both.

The next time Brennan awoke it was without fear and acutely aware that Booth was in bed with her. His strong arms wound around her waist, holding her securely to his side and their legs were intertwined. The late morning sun filtered brightly through the blinds and for a moment she started, then remembered that Booth was making her take the next two days off. Considering how tired she still felt, she supposed that was not as bad of an idea as it had first sounded.

"Feeling better?" his sleep-laden voice grated out.

She turned around in his arms to face him and nodded, then yawned. Booth wrinkled his nose at her morning breath and she tickled his ribs in retaliation. He squirmed out of her reach, but his arms were still long enough to tickle her. Any thought of more sleep was dissipated by the competitive gleam that came into her eyes as she rolled up on top of him, tickling him mercilessly while effectively pinning his arms to his side with her thighs.

This continued for a couple of minutes until Booth broke free and flipped her over as if she weighed nothing and began laying a trail of kisses down her body starting at her mouth and continuing down her neck to her shoulders.

"Mmm, you taste good, Bones," he grinned up at her when he'd kissed the tips of her fingers.

Her stomach chose that moment to growl and they both decided it was time for breakfast. Neither one of them felt much like cooking so they brewed a pot of coffee, then dressed quickly and hopped in the car in search of a doughnut shop. In town they found a small place simply called "Fresh Donuts" that also sold a variety of other pastries.

Booth ordered a bear claw the size of the paper plate it was served on that was stuffed with a mixture of cooked apples and cinnamon, while Brennan settled for a blueberry bagel with cream cheese. The smell of the pastries combined with the warmth of the fryers in the back gave it a cozy feel, and they planted themselves at a corner table and spent the next hour discussing what to do with the rest of their day.

In the middle of breakfast Rebecca called to let them know Parker's afternoon game had been canceled due to heavy electrical storms in the area, freeing them up even more. After consulting Brennan's blackberry for the weather in their area, they decided to make the two hour drive down to Colonial Williamsburg and go exploring.

The weather was sunny and pleasant for the most part and they spent the day meandering around the historic town on foot. Brennan had been there several years before, but found it much more interesting with Booth, who proved to be quite well-versed in colonial history; especially as it pertained to the military side of things. She had to laugh at the number of times he expounded on the small signs giving minimal details on what had occurred in certain locations, as well as when he would whisper whether or not the colonial actors that roved about the town were historically accurate.

The price for such a well-informed tour guide was having to walk on his right-hand side the entire time after he insisted on buying and wearing a shirt that boasted "Virginia Is For Lovers," with an arrow pointing to the right. He bought a baby-doll style matching shirt for her with the arrow pointing left but could not persuade her to wear it no matter how many charm smiles he employed. That notwithstanding, they enjoyed themselves immensely and later on shared a scrumptious dinner overlooking the water at sunset.

Foot-weary but happy, they drove back home and collapsed in front of a movie before falling into bed fast asleep.

The next morning they languished in bed; sometimes sleeping, sometimes not and Booth was giddy with excitement as he told Brennan he was taking her somewhere special for lunch. Expecting he had chosen a local restaurant she was surprised an hour later when they parked just down the street from a very familiar eating establishment.

Brennan gave her partner a hard time about the long drive, but sitting down at their table and being welcomed warmly by the wait staff when they came over to take their order, she had to admit that it felt good to be back at the Royal Diner. They sat across from each other as they always did, and bickered over everything from Booth's food choices to what kind of music they would be listening to on the drive back. This time, though, when their noses got within inches of each other Booth ended the argument with a kiss, and a resounding round of applause from the staff and regular patrons ensued. Booth was given a free slice of the pie of his choice and Brennan a hot fudge sundae in celebration.

That evening they met Cam and Sweets at the Founding Fathers for dinner and drinks before reluctantly heading back to Virginia. There was a slight air of heaviness on the drive back, made even heavier when Brennan all of a sudden opened up and shared what her dream had been about Friday night.

"I wanted to tell you that I loved you too," she confessed, eyes misty though she wasn't crying. "I wanted to save you. But I couldn't- I couldn't do anything."

"Hey," he shot her a sidelong smile, "I know you love me, okay? Whether you say the words or not I know it."

"It's just-" she tried to put her thoughts into the right words. "I know we haven't addressed the issue since that night, but there are still times I feel woefully inadequate being your partner in a long-term romantic relationship. And these dreams just seem to reinforce that.

"Perhaps," her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it over the car noises around them. "Perhaps I should have gone to Maluku after all."

"Why?" he asked, not sure if he trusted himself to say anything beyond that.

Her response was hesitant and she didn't start until he'd parked on their street and turned the car off. "The whole point of this year-long sabbatical was so that I could gain some perspective. So that I wasn't constantly worrying about you being injured in the field while trying to protect me and so we could properly assess our relationship and determine where it should go next."

The car went silent, then Booth suggested they take a walk around the neighborhood and she agreed. For the first several minutes they said nothing, neither one sure how to proceed. A few blocks up, Brennan reached out for Booth's hand, lacing her fingers with his and moving her body closer to him.

"Do you want to go, Bones?" he finally worked up the courage to ask. "Because if you do I'll support you, you know that right? That no matter what you do I'll still love you and I'll wait as long as I need to for you to figure things out?"

She nodded, "I know, Booth, and thanks." She was quiet again, then said, "I don't want to go to Maluku, not really. If I'm honest with myself I know that much of my fear, though based on past experience, is irrational and can largely be dismissed on the grounds that you are unlike any other man I've dated, and the friendship on which our relationship is founded is different as well.

"These dreams are unnerving, however, and cause me to dwell on my insecurities." She halted on the sidewalk and faced him, the streetlight illuminating his chocolate brown eyes, "You are a good man, Seeley Booth. A man full of loyalty and love who doesn't deserve to spend his life attached to someone who struggles with interpersonal relationships as much as I do."

"Me?" he asked, taken aback and they began walking toward their house again. "Bones, do you know how much guilt I still carry around from the Army- no matter how many bad guys we put away? Or how bad I feel for pulling you away from the stuff you really enjoy doing to deal with murder and violence all the time? And that's not even counting all the times you've been in danger because of me."

They reached the front door and went in, flicking on the lights as they sat down on the couch side by side.

Booth held her hand fast and searched her eyes before speaking, "Look, Bones, no matter what I've told Sweets or Gordon Gordon, I'm a fu- messed up guy who's dad beat him to a pulp every night instead of reading a bedtime story. I've got impulse-control issues that would suck my bank account dry if I let them and a temper that takes every bit of self-control I've got sometimes to repress.

"Yeah, I'm confident about some things and I get along with people mostly 'cause I can read 'em so well, but when it comes to going after things _I_ want or letting people see what's really going on inside I'm as closed up as you if not worse. Hell, it took me months to tell you squints about Parker and that was mostly Goodman's fault.

"So no, Bones," he shook his head mournfully, "I don't deserve you and your brilliant mind, and beautiful body, and a heart so big it once built a bridge just so a little boy could grow up in a thriving town. So loving it followed me into the operating room and never left my side for four days while it poured out a romance so intimate that you and I will be the only two to know its contents. Or one so caring that it turned me down the first time not for your own sake, but for _mine_. To protect _me._

"I don't deserve any of that, Temperance Brennan," he cupped her face in his hands, reverently stroking her cheeks. "But I want you, Bones. I _need_ you."


	7. The Truth Shall Set You Free

Chapter 7: The Truth Shall Set You Free

That night they didn't simply make love- they received it as two people realizing for the first time that they were needed to fulfill the others' happiness. For Booth, it filled a void he hadn't been aware was even there before; or at least it wasn't something he could've named.

Since childhood he had always been the protector: of his mother, his brother, the guys in his unit, and, more recently, of his partner. That she not only loved him and needed him, but that she also wanted to _protect_ him made his heart swell with love and a sense of completeness he'd never experienced before.

The next morning during their jog, instead of bickering over meaningless topics, he chose to take more of a risk with his heart than he ever had with a woman before. Slowly he unpacked the memories of his father- good and bad- and laid them out for her. Far from judging either Booth or his dad, she simply listened and offered a soothing touch, or sympathetic nod when he needed it. When they got back to the house she held him in the shower as he shook from the tears he'd been too scared to shed as a little boy, and too ashamed to as an adult.

"What's wrong, Booth?" she asked as they sat at the breakfast table.

He shrugged, pushing the eggs around his plate, far from hungry. Her head tilted as her eyes sought his out and when they met he felt as if he were naked before her, unable to hide his pain that was the closest it had been to the surface in decades. To his amazement she didn't say anything further, but simply smiled as if to comfort him and moved herself just the slightest bit closer to him.

"It was my fault," he blurted out a few minutes had passed.

"What was?" she looked confused.

Booth hadn't meant to let that slip out and now found himself having to explain, "Him leaving. It was my fault." There was an odd look in her eye, as if she suddenly understood more than he was saying, but she nodded her head for him to continue, so he did, "The night before, he'd been in a really foul mood and he'd managed to knock Jared around pretty good before I stepped in.

"I was just," he sighed, "I was so tired of it, Bones, you know? So even though I should've known better I snuck into the liquor cabinet the next morning and dumped it. All of it. He came in and saw me pouring the last of it down the sink, and when I turned around he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me into the other room.

"He just shoved me around at first, swearing and yelling the whole time, but not doing much compared to his usual. Then all of a sudden he started waling on me," Booth lifted his eyes cautiously to hers, trying to convey all of the emotion that his words couldn't. "Swear to God, Bones, I thought he was going to kill me."

"But he didn't," she spoke gently.

"No," he shook his head. "Jared must've gotten freaked and called Pops and he came storming in and hauled Dad off of me and out the front door. Jared, he helped me clean up all the blood and stuff while they yelled at each other out front. Next thing we knew Dad came inside, grabbed his keys, and took off," he let out a long sigh, still remembering the look of pure hatred in his dad's eyes when they'd met for that brief second.

"No, Booth," Bones was at his side in an instant, shaking her head insistently and clutching his arm. "It wasn't your fault at all, truly."

"That a nice thought, Bones," smiled Booth sadly, "but you weren't there. You didn't see his eyes when he came back in. He hated me for what I'd done and he wanted to get as far away from me as he could."

She took his hands in hers and asked quietly, "Do you trust me?" He nodded, not sure what she was getting at and she continued. "Several months ago when Hank came to stay with you for that short period of time he told me something; something he said that I should tell you when the time was right. Something about what happened between he and your father."

"What are you trying to tell me, Bones?" his brain was reeling with this new information.

"That arguing out on the lawn that you heard," she hesitated for a moment to make sure he was following her, then continued. "That was Hank telling your father to get out. To leave the house and not come back. I know this may be hard for you to comprehend after so many years of understanding things to have happened a certain way, but Hank seemed rather adamant that the blame fall on him in this instance. He was horrified, even so many years later, that his own son could beat his grandchildren in such a way, so he intervened on your behalf by sending your father away and taking you and Jared into his own home."

He could feel her eyes searching him for a reaction but he was too stunned to speak and mumbling a quick apology he asked to be left alone, then fled to the relative safety of the backyard. After pacing back and forth, replaying her words over the memory he'd clung to for so long he collapsed on one of the chairs and sat staring into brilliant blue sky overhead, unsure of what to think, say, or feel.

Only a small part of him was aware of what was going on when Bones came out a few minutes later, kissing him and apologizing because someone from work had called for her and she had to go. She let him know that she had called Quantico for him and told them he was sick and wouldn't be coming in at all today; then assured him that she would call during her lunch break and that she would leave as early as she possibly could. The entire time she kept repeating how sorry she was, making sure that he knew she wasn't abandoning him.

He snapped out of his stupor long enough to tell her he'd be okay and to kiss back when her lips fell on his in a sweet goodbye. Then she was gone from his line of sight, the sliding door clicking shut behind her and he wondered what he was supposed to do next.

Unable to sit still or think of anything better to do he went back in and changed out of his suit and into blue jeans and t-shirt. A part of him wanted to go to the Academy's gun range and just shoot until the shock of what he'd learned had worn off; though that would mean possibly having to explain why he'd called off sick. He also thought about going on another run, but knew that that wouldn't really help him in the end either. Finally he realized that there was only one place he needed to go.

B&B&B&B&B&B&B

Hank Booth knew as soon as he saw his grandson's face that Temperance had delivered the message he'd given her at the restaurant so many months ago. At the time, he had selfishly hoped that she wouldn't tell Seeley until _after_ Hank was gone from the earth. He knew he didn't have that many years in him and he figured that the "right moment" he'd told her to wait for just might be at or around Hank's funeral.

Obviously, though, something had happened and the young woman who was so enamored with Seeley had burdened him with the truth of what had taken place on that awful day. He said nothing about it at first, carrying on with the small talk Seeley was chattering about, and letting the boy talk him into playing dominoes out in the retirement home's shaded garden area.

When they started their third game and Seeley had still said nothing about why he'd come, Hank cut to the chase by telling him he knew what Temperance had told him. His big, strong grandson blanched for a minute, then hung his head and nodded. The game sat forgotten between them as the silence grew and suddenly Hank was glad that he could be there for Seeley after all.

Like two turtles reluctant to come out of their shells and face the other, they stared at each other for a long time, then slowly Seeley began telling Hank what he'd always thought to be the truth of why his father had left. Thirty years of fresh guilt swept over the old man as he realized the burden he'd allowed Seeley to bear by his unwillingness to tell him the truth for so long.

When he'd finished, Hank was shocked as Seeley came around the table and pulled him into a tight embrace, thanking him for saving his life that day and giving he and Jared a safe place to call home. Then Seeley asked if Hank would tell him, in his own words, what had happened, listening intently as the account was given.

"When I brought the two of you back your grandma didn't say anything, just got to work fussing over you and getting your beds all made up," Hank told him. "I think she knew without me saying anything who had beaten you so badly, but when it finally came out she just nodded and swore that the two of you would have the happiest childhood we could give you from there on out."

"We did," Seeley assured him, voice thick with emotion. "Those are some of the greatest years I can remember. Thanks."

"Don't thank me," begged the old man. "I should've seen what he was doing years before and put a stop to it. I'm ashamed to even call him my son."

"He wasn't all bad," Seeley said, like a little boy not wanting to give up on the few good memories he had to cling to.

"No," Hank conceded, remembering a time when things had been good between he and he son. "No he wasn't."


	8. Flying Burdens

Chapter 8: Flying Burdens

Even though Brennan left work at precisely five o'clock for the first time since she'd taken on the role of Project Coordinator, she felt as if the day had been interminably long. The last thing she had wanted to do that morning was leave Booth in such a vulnerable state all by himself, and she most likely would've taken at least the morning off had she not been called in to mediate a scheduling conflict immediately.

There were only a handful of times in their five year partnership that she could recall Booth being the one who was emotionally distraught. Despite the general presumption that she was cold, it was she who had cried the most over the course of their partnership and she who sought solace in his arms during such times. To be the one on the comforting side was something entirely new to her and she wondered if her leaving him so abruptly in his moment of obvious need proved how truly poor she was at such intimate, interpersonal relations.

The notion that perhaps she had failed in this regard persisted when her repeated attempts to contact him, both at lunch and at two other points throughout the day, failed; all three times it yielded only his prerecorded voice inviting her to leave a message at the forthcoming tone. She did leave a message each time, trying to sound neither overly concerned or not concerned enough. In truth she was quite concerned, so much so that she filled her shoulder bag up with work she could complete at home and left her office as soon as she was able.

His familiar black SUV was parked outside of their home in a different spot than it had been when she'd left that morning and she released a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding. The rational part of her internal dialogue chided her for the unnecessary worry, while the newly budding emotional part reminded her that part of loving someone else meant being concerned for their well-being even when it wasn't warranted.

When she opened the door a rich, warm scent welcomed her, along with the sound of someone humming along with the radio. The humming stopped and he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with a wide smile, then came over to help free her from the weight of the heavy bag.

"Hi," his voice was soft, almost shy as he leaned in to plant the barest whisper of a kiss on her cheek. "How are you?"

She considered his face for a long moment then smiled, "I'm fairly certain _I'm_ the one who should be asking you that question. Are _you_ alright, Booth? I attempted to call you several times this afternoon and failed."

"Oh, yeah," a blush crept up his cheeks and his hand went around the back of his neck. "I, um, left my phone here at the house. Sorry. I tried to call your office when you got back but they said you'd already left so I figured I'd see you soon enough."

That explained why he hadn't called, but she noticed he'd not answered her actual question and she was uncertain if she should ask it again. With another smile, he excused himself and went back to his work in the kitchen. Shedding her shoes, she called out that she would be right back down and went to go change into something more comfortable.

Descending a few minutes later in shorts and a light cotton t-shirt she was still unsure as to how to confront Booth any further than she already had, so she went over to the dining area and began setting the table for the meal. No sooner had she finished than Booth rounded the corner, bearing a steaming pan and bowl that he set on the table where she had laid out the trivets. With a quick thanks, he disappeared back into the kitchen and returned seconds later balancing salad, a plateful of pungent garlic bread, and a bottle of red wine.

Relieving him of the wine, she poured it for them while he set everything down at the table, thanking her again for setting it and pulling out her chair for her while he was up.

"You're welcome," Brennan smiled, moving over to where he stood. "And while the food smells delicious, I-" She reached out and took his hand, looking earnestly into his eyes, "If our positions were reversed you would have long ago insisted that I update you, honestly, on my emotional state.

"I have spent the better part of my day concerned for you, Booth, and yet I've received no answer as to how you are after repeated attempts and I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't upset at me for leaving you so suddenly this morning."

"No," the sudden reply came and his eyes shifted away before coming back to rest on her. "No, I'm not mad at you, Bones. You did everything right this morning, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded, putting that worry behind her. "Though once again you haven't answered my question about your emotional state."

His shoulders shook as he chuckled softly at her persistence and reached out a hand to cup her smooth cheek with his callused palm, "You're not going to let that one go are you?" She shook her head and he let out a resigned sigh, "Can we at least eat while I try and give you an answer?"

"That would be acceptable," the smile she reserved only for him was back and it warmed his heart, imbuing him with courage.

They sat down across from one another and she passed him her plate when he held out his hand. "It's eggplant Parmesan," he informed her. "Or at least yours is, mine's chicken, and there's spaghetti in the bowl there. I couldn't find the kind of dressing you like at the store, though, so I got the closest I could find."

He was babbling and they both knew it, but she allowed it for the time being, assuring him that the dressing was just fine and thanking him again for preparing the meal.

"I went to see Pops," said Booth, coincidentally just after she'd taken her first bite. "We talked about- you know, stuff- and it was good. Really good." He took a bite of his own food and she waited for him to elaborate. "I guess what I mean is-" he set his fork down and stared at her across the table, the emotions from the past twenty-four hours hovering over them like a pregnant storm cloud. "Look, it's been close to thirty years since I talked about this with anybody. Me, Jared, Pops; we just don't talk about it as a kind of rule.

"And I don't want you to think that means I didn't want to tell you about it, because I did. You- you deserve to know that part of me, Bones," he reached across the table and took her hand. "But the reason I haven't answered you yet is because I don't know. I don't know how I feel or don't feel, or even how I _should_ feel, and quite frankly that scares the hell out of me, because I feel like-" he couldn't even put that thought into words and it frustrated him.

"You feel like you've lost control," Brennan picked up the train of thought. "It's like while it was happening you knew that it was painful, and that to dwell on it would only bring more pain. So in order to spare yourself you began to control it. To take each painful thought captive and seal it in a place so deep within you that it couldn't hurt you any more.

"You compartmentalize your life," she went on, a sad smile on her lips. "Never allowing yourself close emotional contact with anyone else for fear they might either see how hollow your life truly is, or validate yet again how worthless you are in the grand scheme of things. But then you meet-"

"A woman," interrupted Booth.

"A _person_," she corrected with a smirk, "who makes you feel as if it might just be safe enough to take that risk and share your burden."

"Burdens that allow us to fly," he murmured.

Her head shot up, sure she'd misheard him, "What did you say?"

"Hmm?" he shook his head. "Oh, nothing."

"No, Booth," she insisted. "Why did you say that? Why did you say they are 'burdens that allow us to fly?'"

"It's just a random thought, Bones," he looked at her oddly. "Something I've been kicking around for a while now."

"For a year," her voice rang with certainty.

"How'd you know that?"

"Because that's how long ago I wrote it," she let the words hover in the air between them, unsure of how he would react.

On the other side of the table from her, Booth was trying to get was she was implying and when he finally did his eyes widened, a single nod from her confirming his suspicion, "The coma."

As soon as their eyes met they both looked away, suddenly very intent on the food in front of them. Even with all that had changed between them, and all of the hurdles they had overcome to get where they were, the topic of his coma dream and her deleted story had remained a closed one.

The silence persisted as they finished eating and went through the motions of cleaning up the remnants of the meal. They stood sided by side rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, neither one of them knowing what else they were supposed to do or say. By the time they were finished the kitchen was the cleanest it had been since they'd moved in and there wasn't a dirty dish in sight.

"So," said Booth finally, taking her hand gently in his as he snapped the kitchen light off and led her into the living room, "there was this dream that I had about a couple who were partners-"

"But not crime-solvers," she finished when he let the sentence hang.

"Yup," he nodded. "Partners at a club-"

"The Lab. And they weren't just partners," she admitted, "they were married."

He let go of her hand long enough to select a CD and start it playing.

"They were happily married. And it wasn't just a club," he smiled.

"It was a dance club," she stepped into his waiting arms, accepting the invitation to dance as the soft jazz filtered through the room.

They continued in that manner, taking turns telling the story that each of them knew almost by heart despite the time that had passed. It struck her as odd that he could recall the details as well as she, reinforcing in her mind just how vivid his dream had been. The further they went on the more comfortable they became, and the more they began to tease and flirt with each other as they exchanged lines; giving up the dance when they got tired and sitting down together on the couch.

"And the partners and their little boy lived happily ever after," Booth concluded with a mischievous grin.

"Or girl," she put in from her perch on his lap, poking him in the chest.

He laughed, but nodded, then sobered, "I think I'd like raising a little girl with you."

"Yes," she indulged in the fantasy for a moment, imagining the kind of doting father she knew Booth would be with a little girl. "That would be nice, someday."

"You really think so?" he asked, his eyes conveying a deeper question.

"A very wise man once told me that everything happens eventually," she smiled up at him. "Do you agree, Mr. B?"

He rested his forehead against hers and whispered on her lips, "Yes I do, Bren."


	9. Far and Near

Chapter 9: Far and Near

The rest of the week was just as busy as the previous week had been, but the couple managed to strike a better balance this time around between time spent at work and at home. Brennan also forced herself to go to bed at a reasonable hour of the night so that she woke up refreshed, and able to accomplish more work; though one night she was forced to stay up late to take part in a video conference with the team in Maluku.

Missing a day of work meant Booth spent the first two days back playing catch up. By then it was Thursday and he had to work his tail off to have everything ready for the start of his first class on Monday. Fortunately it was a class he was tag-teaching with Chris, and the older man showed him how to structure his lessons to make the most of the time he had.

Friday was their most hectic day yet. Brennan was speaking at a fund-raising event in Baltimore, which Booth would've attended had he not had to pick Parker up in DC for the weekend. They both had that much work to accomplish that they didn't go on their run that morning, or get to meet for lunch in the afternoon like they'd planned.

Booth was so busy that he ended up having to call Jared to get Parker from school and to his relief his brother offered to drive his nephew down to Quantico as well. Even with that reprieve he barely got everything in place for the following week before five hit and it was time to go home. He swung by the lab and picked up a very harried Brennan.

Fifteen minutes after they'd gotten home, Jared and Parker showed up and ten minutes after that Brennan rushed out the door muttering about her GPS getting her there on time. Jared stuck around for dinner and a few rounds of Wii Baseball and all three of them had a blast. After Jared left, Parker begged to play more Wii but Booth nixed that idea knowing from experience it would only hype the boy up and make bedtime impossible. Instead, Booth pulled out a well-worn copy of The Hobbit and read until Parker's eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep on Booth's lap.

He was in bed reading his own book some time later when "Hot Blooded" sounded from the nightstand.

"Hello, Beautiful," he smiled, picturing her in the sophisticated evening gown she'd left in, her hair piled elaborately on her head.

"Hi," her voice was flat with exhaustion.

"Free of the mob yet?" he joked.

There was a stifled yawn as she answered, "Only just."

"You should crash at a hotel tonight," he suggested. "Get some real sleep before you come home."

"That's what I'm calling about," she roused herself. "I've been invited to speak at a conference in Harrisburg tomorrow."

"Harrisburg, right," he hid the disappointment from his voice.

"So you think I should accept?" asked Brennan.

"You were asking me?" he was surprised.

"Isn't that what couples do?" she sounded confused. "Consult one another on decisions that impact them both?"

"Yeah, Bones," he felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. "Yeah, they do, and if you want to go to the conference that's fine with me."

"I won't be able to attend Parker's game."

"You probably wouldn't make it back anyway unless you came home right now and it's way too late for that so don't worry about it," he waved off her concern.

"Parker's expecting me," she insisted and it touched him that she was so concerned about his son.

"He'll be fine with it, Bones, trust me," he reassured her. "I'll explain what happened in the morning, okay? He'll still have a bunch of people cheering for him and we'll call and let you know how he does."

"Did you have fun with him tonight?" she asked.

They talked about Booth's night with Parker and Brennan's at the dinner. She told him the food was just as bad as the banquet the two of them had gone to and it hadn't been as enjoyable for her because there weren't as many scientists this time. The conference the following day, however, would be all scientists, so she'd be in her element.

When she couldn't stop yawning he made her hang up and go find a decent place to sleep for the night. She promised she would call when she safely reached Harrisburg the next day and they hung up.

**B&B&B&B&B&B**

As Brennan bade Booth goodnight and began contemplating what hotel she should go to it struck her that she didn't have any clean clothes with her to wear for the conference.

"Oh, Victor, I apologize," she said when she just narrowly avoided running into him at full speed. "I didn't see you there."

"No harm done," the other anthropologist assured her. "Looking for a hotel?"

"Actually, I already have a place to stay," she realized, a smile crossing her face at the thought. "My apartment in DC isn't far away at all."

By that point the other scientists had joined them, all discussing their own plans for the night. Marcie flagged Brennan down, looking to confirm whether or not she'd be going. As it turned out, all seven of them could attend and Marcie told them she would arrange for transportation for them all, giving a time and location to meet the next morning.

Before she could be waylaid any further, Brennan excused herself and left. The drive was slightly longer than she'd anticipated, but was more than worth it when she was able to soak in her own bathtub and sleep in her own bed. She didn't mind the bed that she and Booth shared at their new house, but she couldn't deny how much faster she fell asleep on her own mattress.

The next morning she woke up much more well-rested than she would have been had she opted for a hotel room. She had no food on hand, of course, but her coffee was still fresh and she left herself enough time to get breakfast before she left to meet the others in Baltimore.

A fifteen-passenger van, along with Hugo, the driver Marcie had hired for the day, picked them up at precisely eight o'clock and was soon filled with lively academic debate. The closer they got, however, the more subdued they became as they began preparing their speeches. Brennan would be addressing the group at the last main session before the lunch breaks began, and the rest would be giving shorter presentations in various workshops throughout the rest of the afternoon.

When they arrived they were greeted by Dr. Ted Lowry, the conference's chief administrator and the man who had invited them the night before. He provided them with official name tags and schedules, and informed them he'd managed to arrange a question and answer period for them after the last main session of the day. Brennan had just enough time to send Booth a quick text letting him know she'd arrived safely, before she was whisked backstage for her first appearance.

The day passed quickly enough and was every bit as enjoyable as Brennan had supposed it would be. While the Maluku team was given time to share what they were doing, it wasn't the main focus of the conference and there was plenty of down time for Brennan to take part in the workshops of her choice. The day was also punctuated with regular updates from Booth on the status of Parker's game, including a final one composed of all capital letters announcing that they'd won.

A feeling of warmth and pride had filled her as she read the updates, and instead of going to one final workshop, she surreptitiously slipped out the back door and called Parker to congratulate him. The phone was passed between father and son multiple times until she felt quite certain she would not have gathered any more details had she physically attended the game herself.

There was a loud shout of excitement as Parker, who was enjoying his celebratory meal at the diner, finished his meal and received the small custom cake Brennan had ordered for him earlier that morning when she'd eaten a quick breakfast there.

"It looks like a baseball!" Parker exclaimed, snatching the phone from his dad to thank Bones himself. "But how'd you know to put 'Good Job' on it? I mean, he hadn't even won yet."

"Whether you won or lost I have no doubt you would have done your best," she explained, knowing that Booth had passed down that work ethic to his son.

After proclaiming her to be "awesome" one last time, Parker went back to his cake and handed the phone to his dad. A much as she would've enjoyed talking to Booth longer, she heard the announcement being made that the final session was about to begin. Booth promised to wait up for her that night and they said their goodbyes.

As she and her team were waiting backstage for the question and answer session to begin, her phone was barraged with pictures from Jared and Booth's phones of the game and ensuing celebration, including one of Parker and Booth posing with the small baseball cake which she immediately set as her background picture.

"Your family?" Sue Grey asked, pointing at the screen.

After a moment's hesitation Brennan decided that was an adequate definition of what the pair on the screen were to her and she nodded.

"You're a lucky woman," Sue commented.

"Yes," Brennan's smile was wide and genuine. "I am."


	10. Bread and Butter

**For PJ and Doc, who are joint Queens of the Bread Truck and who have to see these chaps in their raw stages. Love ya both! **

**Gum :)**

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Chapter 10: Bread and Butter

"It was a dark and stormy night," Booth's voice was deep, his words emphasized by the actual thundered that rolled in the distance.

Fortunately for Parker, the rain had waited until long after the game was over to come down this week and by then they were safe and sound in the townhouse. Since Parker was staying for the entire weekend he begged to be allowed to stay up until Brennan got home. She had called around five to let Booth know that the van was heading back to Baltimore, and at seven-thirty he'd gotten a text that she was getting in her car so he didn't figure it would take too long.

Now it was ten and he was trying to keep Parker entertained while simultaneously not envisioning his girlfriend in a mangled car wreck somewhere between Maryland and Virginia. He had already read more of The Hobbit to him, but it hadn't worked like it did the night before, and now he was on his third ghost story and was running out of material fast.

"Bones!" Parker flew off the couch and made a mad dash for the door.

It wasn't the forensic anthropologist, but rather the wind rattling the door and the boy shuffled back to the living room disappointed.

"Will she _ever_ get here?" he whined.

"I hope so," Booth muttered under his breath, then went back to distracting Parker with the rest of the story.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

The drive from Harrisburg to Baltimore had been uneventful and as it was Saturday, rush-hour traffic hadn't been heavy for the most part. It was once they got to Baltimore that the rain started in earnest, and by the time Brennan was halfway home it was coming down in buckets, pulling her average speed down to around ten miles an hour.

Visibility was at about zero as well, and at the moment the people in front of her did not seem to be familiar with driving in inclement weather. Her back was beginning to tighten, having been tensed up for the last half an hour and her legs were already sore from being on her feet for the better part of the last twenty-four hours. Knowing that there was a bathtub with jets and a man who was quite skilled in the area of back massages waiting for her at home was both a blessing and a curse.

A large tractor-trailer sped past on her left and she held on tightly to the wheel so as not to get washed off to the side of the road. Finally, the rain began to abate but the people in front of her were still going slow and she was never more glad to see their turn signal come on at the next exit.

She was just applying the gas to speed up when she caught sight of a pair of headlights bearing down behind her quickly, with no signs of slowing down or passing her. The rain clattered against her roof as the truck behind her moved closer and closer, but an attempt to speed up only left her tires spinning. Then the time to react was over and it was right up on her.

At the last possible second, Brennan aimed the car at a field on the side of the road and veered off, narrowly avoiding being sideswiped by what she now saw was yet another tractor-trailer. For a few micro-seconds there were mere inches between them, but then she was off on the side of the road, tires hydroplaning despite her attempts to avoid just that. The car bounced and bumped, jarring her until she finally stopped in the field; her car facing the oncoming traffic.

After assessing herself for injuries and deciding she had none, she stepped cautiously out of the car. Thunder sounded and the air around her crackled with electricity around her just before lightning flashed across the sky. The fine mist of rain wasn't helping her situation either, though in a matter of moments she was able to locate the LED flashlight she kept in her trunk for such conditions.

Fifteen long minutes later she determined that beyond some cosmetic damage there was nothing structurally wrong with her car. Getting turned around in the muddy field proved to be a bit more of a challenge, but once she got going in the right direction she was able to keep that momentum and move back onto the road.

For the remainder of the trip her body tensed automatically when a tractor-trailer would pass, though thankfully they were few and far between once she got off the main roads. She was never so relieved to see the sign for their neighborhood, or the soft glow of the porch light that Booth had obviously left on for her. It didn't even bother her to have to park a block beyond where she normally did due to the late hour, or walk through the steady rain that had begun in earnest once again.

She laid a hand on the knob, fumbling for her keys in her now-soaked clothes, and eventually just gave up and pressed the doorbell instead. Inside, she heard an excited voice coming quickly toward her as a deeper voice warned against opening the door to strangers. Heedless of the warning the door flung open and she was being dragged through the doorway by an exuberant Parker before she had time to register anything else.

Booth, on the other hand, had plenty of time to observe _her_ and ignoring the fact that he was being completely upstaged by his nine year old, he shut the door behind them, eyes noting things like the clothes that clung to her frame like a second skin, the tension in her back and shoulders, and the mud that coated her shoes and the hem of her ankle-length skirt.

"Okay, Pal," he stepped in, ruffling Parker's hair affectionately, "let's give Bones time to wring herself out while _you_ go get ready for bed."

"But, Dad-" the boy protested.

"Nope," Booth shook his head firmly, pointing Parker in the direction of the steps. "No 'but Dad-ing' me. Your mom's already gonna kill me if she finds out how I let you stay up. Now, _if_ you go right up and get your teeth brushed and get everything else ready without anymore complaints you can come back down and see Bones for a few more minutes, got it?"

"Yes, sir," came the mumbled reply, and with a final smile in the anthropologist's direction, he tore off at full speed for the bathroom.

Booth wasted no time gathering Brennan gently into his arms and kissing her. He wasn't exactly expecting her to deepen the kiss, but he held onto her despite the fact that his own clothes were getting damp, letting her pour all of her anxiety, frustration, and whatever else she was feeling, out on him.

"Um," he said, pulling back when she reached for his belt buckle, "I know you probably need a hot bath, but Parker's been waiting up all night for you."

"And he's following your instructions quite rapidly," she nodded with a wry grin.

"Yeah."

"I'll go up and change into something more comfortable and less wet and come back down to tell him goodnight," was her understanding reply.

Booth smiled his thanks and headed out to the kitchen to start some water boiling and had managed to hunt down her tea and her favorite mug by the time Parker came back down. Brennan wasn't far behind and bestowed a grateful smile on both of them as she was handed tea, and a small piece of the baseball cake that had been saved for her.

Pushing away her fatigue, she concentrated on the young boy in front of her, doing her best to explain to him what her role in the conference had been. He commented on the bad weather and she agreed that it had been difficult to drive in, hoping that he would imply that as being the reason it had taken her nearly four hours to drive home. He did, though she could see that the elder Booth knew there was something else she wasn't disclosing.

When Parker began to yawn widely, Booth announced that he really did need to go to bed and Brennan stepped in and offered to tuck him in for the night. She was unsure why she had felt the need to do so and thought perhaps that might be overstepping her grounds, but the grin on Parker's face and the tender smile on Booth's told her she'd said the right thing.

The boy hugged his father goodnight and took her hand as they went up the steps, not letting go until he'd crawled into bed. He said a short prayer, thanking God for getting Bones home safe in the rain, then gave her a hug and a peck on her cheek before burrowing under the covers. Touched, Brennan thanked him and leaned over to plant her own light kiss on Parker's forehead as she did with her nieces when she'd tucked them in.

"'Night, Bones," Parker called as she was walking out of the room. "I love you."

She turned and looked over her shoulder, "I love you too, Parker."

A smile grew on her face as she closed the door softly behind her and she was not at all surprised to find Booth waiting patiently for her in the hall.

"I love you too, you know?" he teased.

"I've heard rumors to that affect, yes," she teased back, stepping all too willingly back into his embrace. "Though I've also heard actions speak louder than words."

He laughed as they walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, "And what actions might I interest you in tonight, Bones?"

"A back massage," she answered right away, shucking the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt she'd thrown own earlier, "but only after my bath."

"Would that be this bath?" asked Booth, guiding her toward the master bathroom only after he'd shed his own clothes.

She was immediately enveloped by the damp humidity, ears welcoming the sound of the jets stirring the water. Booth helped her in and she honestly didn't care if he joined her or not. With a groan she slipped beneath the water, letting it go to work on her tired and aching muscles. She came up for air a few times, but the feeling of weightlessness in the water was too good to relinquish right away.

When she finally did, Booth was beside her and he leaned out of the tub long enough to pour them each a glass of chilled wine. They tipped the glasses together lightly before sipping at them, and while she knew he still had questions, she was thankful he wasn't demanding answers; though she knew he would once she began the tale.

Somewhere after the third glass she finally related the entire story and true to form he had more questions than she answers.

"So you didn't see the guy's plates, huh?" he said as they got out.

"The weather obstructed the view, yes," she nodded, accepting the oversized towel, as well as the strong, steady hands that patted her dry with it. "All I could make out when it was right beside me was the large loaf of bread emblazoned along its side."

"Like Wonder Bread?"

She shook her head, "It wasn't brand-specific that I noticed; though again, I only got a glimpse of it and was more concerned with remaining in control of the vehicle."

"Right," he started toweling himself off. "And you're home safe now, so that's all that matters."

"Agreed," she nodded.

"Ready for that massage?" he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

She didn't bother to answer, just hung up the towel, handed him a jar of cocoa butter, locked the bedroom door, and laid down on the bed.


	11. Excellence

Chapter 11: Excellence

All three of them slept in on Sunday and, since the weather had not improved from the night before, they lazed around the house watching movies and playing Wii games until it was time to take Parker back to DC. Booth and Brennan probably would've stayed at her apartment again if they hadn't needed to get up for work the next morning. As it was, they grabbed dinner at the Founding Fathers and were back in Virginia by nine. By ten they were yawning, and Brennan announced she was going to bed so Booth went with her.

It wasn't until after their morning run and half-way through breakfast that Booth realized his new job as a teacher was about to begin. As a sniper and then an FBI agent trained to interrogate some of the worst criminals in the world, nerves were something he had learned to compartmentalize so that he could focus on the task at hand, but by the time he got to his office that morning he was feeling queasy; a feeling that only intensified as he navigated the hall toward his assigned classroom.

There was still a little bit of time left until the students started arriving and Chris was already in the room, looking over his notes. Seeing Booth's pale complexion he offered him the chair behind the desk and assured him that everything would be fine. Step by step Chris walked Booth through their lesson plan for the day; which mainly consisted of giving an overview of what the class would cover and handing out the syllabus they had come up with together.

The class, which covered advanced interrogation methods and techniques, was two weeks long, with twenty students. The first week would be spent in the classroom, and the second out in one of the Academy's simulated environments putting what they had learned into practice. He and Chris would teach the same class to five different groups of agents throughout the summer. In the fall Booth would change assignments to correspond with the academy's twenty week-long training sessions.

In a way, Booth was relieved when the first of the students started trickling in and he realized that these were guys not much younger than him who'd been sent by their home field offices for extra training. Booth remembered being one of those guys and dreading some of the classes he'd had to take, but he and Chris had done their prep work and the first two-hour session, at least, went very smoothly.

"So you have a second class this afternoon, correct?" Brennan asked when she met him for lunch at a small cafe within walking distance of her lab.

"Yup," he said between bites. "Firearms training."

"Will that be at the range?"

"For the first couple of days," he nodded, "but I also have an outdoor course set up too in one of the fake city areas. There's a big difference between shooting at the range and on the run and it's not something you can really teach from a lectern either. Plus you figure I have to cram everything into two weeks, so this way they get a lot more for the time they put in."

They talked about the different types of firearms that would be used throughout the class and debated the merits of each. Booth explained that he was going to have the students rotate between being "cops and robbers" as he put it, when they were out in the fake city, and that even though they'd be using rubber bullets, he was still going to outfit them with flack jackets so that they could learn to shoot properly with the extra bulk.

"Plus," he told Brennan, "they hurt like hell, rubber or not."

"You sound much more enthused about this course than your other one," she commented with a knowing smile.

"Nothing wrong with learning interrogation techniques," shrugged Booth, "but it's mostly all talk and it's not something I'm used to teaching to other people."

"Whereas you are quite familiar with instructing others in the proper use of firearms?" she guessed, given how quickly he'd climbed the ranks as a sniper.

"I could do it in my sleep," he said without pride.

Neither one said anything about the implications of that statement and went back to the food in front of them. Brennan had learned in the early days of their partnership that while Booth was fiercely patriotic and didn't regret the service he'd given to his country, he wasn't altogether comfortable with the fact that being one of the best in his field meant that he'd become an extremely efficient killer. They'd long since put away more than twice as many killers than he had killed, but from her vantage point it still seemed as if Booth sometimes still didn't feel as if he'd done enough to assuage his guilt.

"The urban training course sounds fascinating," Brennan broke the silence.

Booth grinned at the question in her tone, "Hmm, well, Bones, if you're a good little forensic anthropologist maybe I'll let you tag along with me one of these days."

"Armed?" she asked greedily, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

"Maybe," he teased. "Or maybe I'll just make my guys chase you around."

"Maybe I'll kick them in the testicles," she shot back, drawing the eyes of more than one passerby. "Or you."

"Jeez, Bones, I was joking," he chuckled, then became serious. "But if you came you'd have to follow the rules no questions asked, got it?"

"Will I have to address you as 'Sir' as well?" her eyes narrowed.

"I'm partial to 'Your Excellency' actually," he winked as they stood to leave. "Being the benevolent dictator that I am I _might_ let you get away with 'Sir Seeley' though; _if_ you promise to behave and not shoot me in the leg."

"That was an accident," glared Brennan as she shoved him playfully. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent shot."

"So I keep hearing," he shook his head in mock unbelief, capturing her hand in his as she walked him back to his car. "Could've fooled me."

She pulled up short and faced him, her voice low enough so only he could hear her, "Ken Thompson I deliberately shot in the knee so that he couldn't set the evidence on fire and destroy it. I shot Gil Lappin before he could strike you with his crowbar and Pam Noonan was dead before she hit the ground when I shot her in the throat with _your_ gun."

The alarm that he'd set on his watch so that he wouldn't lose track of time went off, the soft beep deafening in the silence that lay between them. She told him he should go and he nodded dumbly, wanting desperately to say something but unable to find the words. Instead, he reached out his hand, cupping her jaw and stroking it gently as their eyes locked. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was all he had time for and before he realized it she had kissed his cheek and was turning away.

Through the rest of the afternoon her words haunted him and it was lucky for him he was as good as he'd boasted he was because he may as well have been sleeping for all the attention he paid to what was going on during the class. With the exception of Thompson, she had shot to kill, and in both of those instances it had been to save his life. Sure, he knew that she wasn't anywhere near as good as he was, but she hadn't been trained for it either and the few times he'd seen her down at the range she hadn't done half bad.

The thing of it was, he concluded by the end of the day, that no matter how much he teased her there wasn't anybody he'd rather have at his side in a life-or-death situation than his partner. Sure, he might wish that she was safely tucked away in her lab some days, but she'd proven that when the job needed to get done, she could do it; and with deadly accuracy. That she'd felt she needed to remind him of that- and in a voice that suggested she felt he thought lesser of her- didn't sit well with him at all and he left work as soon as he was free to and drove over to the lab.

Her office was empty when he got there and when he stopped a very flustered Marcie in the hall she informed him that Dr. Brennan would be in meetings until at least six, if not later. He jotted down a quick note just in case she came back, dialing a local pizza shop as he headed to his car. A few different stops and an hour later he returned to find she still wasn't there so he balled up his note, set the pizzas and salad and chips and drinks aside for the time being and pulled out his own work.

He'd managed to go over almost all of the results from the afternoon's targets, getting a feel for what level his students were at compared to where he wanted to take them in the next two weeks, when he heard the familiar click of her heels against the hard floor. Not sure exactly what to say, or if she would be alone for that matter, he stayed where he was and kept working until she walked in.

"Have you been waiting long?" she asked, shrugging her lab coat off and hanging it on the coat rack.

"Nah," he stood and stretched, then faced her. "Hungry?"

"Quite," she nodded, heading straight for the pizza box and digging right in.

Not wanting to put off what he'd been rehearsing in his mind all afternoon he cleared his throat and started, "Look, Bones-"

"Wait," she cut him off and walked over until she was right in front of him. "I didn't mention those things this afternoon to make you uncomfortable or to insinuate in any way that they were your fault, but merely to point out that, though my number of opportunities have been minimal, my shooting record is exemplary."

"I know it is," replied Booth without a hint of teasing in his tone. "You really are a good shot no matter how much I give you a hard time about the Wonder Woman incident. I can't say you being put in that position is something that I jump up and down for joy about, mostly because I hate the thought of you being in any kind of dangerous situation at all. But," he held up a hand to stave off her protest, "there's nobody I trust more than you to have my back when the chips are down. You're my girl, Bones."

"Your _girl?_" she arched a skeptical eyebrow.

"Girl as in partner," he clarified. "The one I'd kill for, die for, and the one I trust would do the same for me."

"I would," she said without hesitation.

"You have," he smiled softly. "Thanks."

Her cheeks pinked and she shook off the embarrassment, "Am I allowed to eat now?"

"Only if I leave you some," he grinned, diving for the pizza box and snatching it out from under her.

He kept moving it just out of her reached until she got tired of the game and poked him in the ribs. They laughed over dinner, recounting some of the lighter moments in their shared history rather than the more serious ones. Once the food was gone they decided that since they were there she might as well finish her work rather than take it home with her. She didn't have much left and Booth was easily able to finish the last of his work by the time she announced she was ready to go.

"So when do I get to shoot things with you on the urban course?" Brennan asked as they were packing up to leave.

He chuckled and shrugged, "Not sure. I'll probably have to clear it with a few people but that shouldn't be too big a problem; though technically you're a civilian and right now you're a civilian who _isn't_ contracted out to the FBI."

A frown crossed her face then she suggested, "What if we did it as a demonstration of what partners should do in the advent of a shootout? That would give me a legitimate reason to be there."

"And to shoot," his lip curled in a lopsided grin, but he considered it and nodded. "Yeah, that could work. It's something I was planning on covering toward the end of the class anyway, so all I'd have to do is let them know you'll be part of that."

"I could help in all five sessions you're teaching this summer," she offered eagerly as they closed up her office and headed for the car. "So that the request is a legitimate one of course."

"Of course," he teased. "That would mean you'd need to be there for two hours each time. You think you'll have that much time for it?"

"I'll make the time," she promised, then admitted in a smaller voice. "I miss working with you, Booth."

"Me too," he agreed, slinging an arm around her shoulder and smiling when she moved closer and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. "Good thing you didn't go to the Macpoopoo Islands for a year or you'd've really missed me."

He got an eye roll and a small shove for his trouble, but she didn't move from his side and walked in step with him across the parking garage. When they reached his SUV her eyes widened as he held out his keys.

"Really?" she asked.

He nodded and smiled, kissing the bridge of her nose before releasing the keys to her and moving toward the passenger's side, "Rumor has it you're an excellent driver too."


	12. Nocturnal Emissions

Chapter 12: Nocturnal Emissions 

Parker had a mid-week playoff game on Thursday night and this time it was Brennan who sent text message updates and pictures to Booth, who got stuck in a late meeting. He did, however, sneak out to the bathroom to congratulate Parker when Brennan texted that he'd driven in the winning run in the last inning.

"It was awesome, Dad!" Parker told him, compounding Booth's guilt. "But you know what's even better?"

"What's that, Bub?"

"We get two weeks off and then our next game's in Virginia!" Booth could picture the huge smile on his son's face. "And Bones says it's not far away from you guys at all and Mom said I can stay with you if it's okay."

"Sounds like a plan, Parks," he grinned. "Look, Pal, I gotta get going but I'll call again later, okay?"

They said goodbye and Booth headed back to his meeting. Chris elbowed him and smirked when he slipped back into his seat but nobody else seemed to notice so he was good. Toward the end, a few of the higher-ups asked him how his classes were going and he told them fine, then outlined his plan for the partners demonstration in the firearms class. Permission was given based on Booth and Brennan's performance record in the past, provided adequate safety measures were taken each time and they also asked if he and Brennan would be available to speak at the end-of-summer conference in August. Booth said he'd check their schedule, but made no promises given all of the upcoming trips he knew Brennan would be making.

When the meeting finally let out, Chris gave Booth a hard time about his long "bathroom" break, but he grinned at Parker's good news and said that he and Annie would try and make it to the game. They talked about what they were going to do for their last day of classroom instruction in the morning, agreeing that starting the practical application part of the class next week would be much more enjoyable for both students and instructors.

Booth was walking back to his car alone when he heard a noise behind him. He whirled around, hand unconsciously moving to his sidearm and squinted into the darkness but saw nothing. The parking lot lights cast eerie shadows, making it difficult to see. He turned toward his car again and again thought he heard something behind him.

This time he caught sight of something, then breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was a raccoon skittering along with something in its mouth. Shaking his head, Booth hopped in the SUV and headed out.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called as he walked through the door.

"Honey?" she arched an eyebrow as she walked over to greet him.

"Yup," he gave her a quick kiss. "How was you night?"

"The game was fun!" she said with a grin.

"Glad you enjoyed it," he smiled back, not quite ready to let go of her yet, "and thanks for taking Pops."

"It was no trouble at all," she assured him, hugging him one last time before leading him into the kitchen. "Sit," came the order as she opened the fridge. "Hank and I had a wonderful time. I think he's enjoying getting to spend extra time with Parker too."

They talked about Parker and Hank and the game while she puttered around the kitchen building him a sandwich. To his relief she'd called Parker when it had gotten late and Booth still wasn't out of his meeting to let the boy know what was going on and assure Parker that Booth would call him sometime the next day. She'd also called Marcie and told her she would be taking the afternoon off in two weeks for Parker's next game and she asked Booth what he thought about hosting a cookout in their backyard afterward.

"Sounds like a great idea, Bones," he took the plate she offered him, "and this looks like a great sandwich."

They sat in companionable silence as his ate and she nibbled at the chips she'd given him. When the food was all but gone, they started talking again, this time about their work schedules. Brennan was happy to hear that their request had been granted and eagerly began looking at her Blackberry calendar to see when she was free. It was decided that Tuesday would work best for her for the current session, though for the following one she would need to come in during the first week of class on a Thursday because of her schedule restraints coupled with the days Booth had been about to reserve the urban training field.

It didn't get any easier to plan the further they got into the summer months, but by the end of the night they'd worked out which days she would come in for all five sessions and what day would work best for them to speak at the FBI conference. Booth wasn't sure whether to be shocked or appalled by the number of conferences, symposiums, and formal dinners his girlfriend had been booked to speak at already; and not just on weekends either. They talked about which ones he could attend with her, but it was clear he wouldn't be able to make all of them, and Brennan assured him that wasn't necessary.

This coming weekend she had two appearances scheduled; a dinner tomorrow night in Richmond and an afternoon lecture at Georgetown on Saturday. After coming so close to burning herself out that first week, Brennan had informed Marcie that she would be unavailable for any meetings or other work-related activities on Sundays so that she was guaranteed at least one day a week off.

It was later than Booth would've preferred when they got to bed, but the alarm clock dragged them out of bed at the same time it always did. Neither one of them was up for a long run and Booth managed to persuade her to head out with him for doughnuts instead. They sat at a corner table in the little doughnut shop, sipping coffee and discussing what time they needed to leave work to get ready and drive to Richmond. Brennan reminded him that Marcie had hired Hugo to drive everyone again but Booth nixed the idea, saying this way they could leave when they needed to instead of waiting for everyone else.

The day plodded along for Booth in the morning, then picked up steam just before lunch, and was going at a breakneck pace by the time five o'clock rolled around. When he got to the lab, Booth found himself in the midst of organized chaos and after quizzing a few people discovered that a major find had been unearthed at the dig site while the stateside team had slept. It had immediately been cataloged and shipped overnight to Brennan and her team.

Consequently, the dinner in Richmond had been canceled and moved to the next night, much to the disgruntlement of the event's organizers. Booth also found out that Bones had spent an hour on the phone attempting to placate them, only to end by telling them they were scientists, and the science would always come first and they could either accept that or cancel the dinner altogether. They'd moved the dinner.

After checking in with Bones, who told him it could be after midnight before she was free to leave, he went home for a while to change and call Parker before taking her to dinner. She was still busy, but finally caved to taking a break to eat after he threatened to haul her physically off of the platform. He grinned and told her that on the bright side at least she got to have edible food tonight.

"Did you pick up your tuxedo?" she asked between bites.

"Yes, Dear," he teased. "Fits great too, but are you sure you're okay with paying for the whole thing? You could feed a small village for a month for what it cost and I don't mind getting the rentals, or going halves on it with you."

"I don't mind," she said firmly. "It's something that you need if you're going to continue to attend these events with me and it's ridiculous for you to keep renting them. I may even order you a second one given your propensity for dripping condiments on yourself."

"Say that a little louder, Bones," he complained, looking around the thankfully empty break room.

"Besides," she smirked, "you shouldn't be worried about the cost. I'm your village, remember?"

He smiled back and stole a quick kiss then stood and stretched, "I should get going. I've gotta run by the office and grab my lesson plan book before I go home. You okay getting a ride home?"

"Jill offered to take me, yes," she stood up too.

"Alrighty then," he gathered up all of the plastic containers and shoved them into the cloth bag he'd brought them in. "See ya later."

They kissed again and he was halfway to the door when her call made him turn around.

"Watch out for killer raccoons!"

He stuck his tongue out at her smirk and grumbled about not telling her anything ever again, then escaped from the lab before anyone noticed his beet red cheeks. There were no bumps in the night as he tossed the dinner leftovers in the back seat and drove over to the office. Waving to the security guard as he passed, he jogged into the building and found the lesson book buried under a stack of papers he'd been grading. Scooping everything up now that he had plenty of time to finish them he snapped off the light and headed out.

Just like the night before, the parking lot was barren, but this time he ignored all of the nighttime noises that seemed amplified to his jumpy brain and drove off before anything could make him feel like even more of an idiot.


	13. Booth and the Anthropologist

Chapter 13: Booth and the Anthropologist

Brennan wasn't sure how long she'd been on her feet except that it was long enough that her legs were beginning to tingle, but not long enough that she couldn't stand on them at all. One of the nicer things she'd found about going back to work with all scientists was that everyone dressed casually when they came to work as it was all hidden by their lab coats anyway, unless some formal event compelled them to; and even then some of them lacked what Angela would call a "fashion sense."

The first week Brennan was there she'd worn the same pant-suits and such that she'd become accustomed to wearing over the last five years, but once she recognized that her team cared less about how she dressed and more about how solid her science was, she went back to wearing jeans, cotton blouses, and comfortable tennis shoes. It was then she remembered why she'd always dressed that way in the past, because it was much more practical when one was going to be on one's feet for hours upon end to wear tennis shoes rather than three-inch high heels.

Booth had teased her about reverting back to her eco-warrior look, but she'd dismissed his position as jealousy, pointing out that were he given the opportunity he would shed his suits for jeans and a t-shirt too. He had laughed and admitted she was right and commented that between the casual look and putting her hair up in a ponytail she looked years younger; which they both saw as a good thing. At the moment, however, a good thing for her would be a hot bath and a good night's sleep, the latter of which she was not likely to get anytime soon.

Like water slowly circling the drain, her colleagues one by one left the lab in search of their beds, knowing that a full day's work would likely face them tomorrow as well. Finally, Judy declared that she was leaving and that Temperance needed to leave as well. Peeling off her latex gloves and shucking her lab coat, the anthropologist gathered up her things and followed Judy out of the lab. Conversation was sparse on the way home as both women were exhausted and when they reached the townhouse Brennan thanked Judy and told her she would see her later in the day.

The porch light had been left on for her, but she was glad to see none of the other lights were on and hoped that meant Booth was sleeping soundly. Her fingers fumbled for the correct key, making a loud clattering noise as they slipped to the ground. Sighing, she bent over and picked them up- and jumped back with a squeal as a face greeted her when she stood.

"Geez, Bones, kill my eardrums why don't you?" Booth shook his head, opening the door and standing to one side so she could enter.

"You're supposed to be asleep," she said crossly, clutching her keys tightly.

"Kinda hard with you making all this racket out here," he pointed out.

Rolling her eyes she moved past him and into the house, "There was no _racket_ until you startled me."

"Afraid my killer raccoon was coming after you?" he couldn't resist teasing her.

Far too tired to dignify that with a response she kicked off her shoes, dumped her bag on the floor, and went in the kitchen in search of something to drink. A steaming mug of chamomile tea greeted her, making her turn her head back around and smile her thanks at her partner. Booth was leaning against the door frame to the kitchen, arms crossed, and looking quite satisfied with himself, though this time he held back the smug smile not wanting to push her too far this late at night.

"You really should be asleep, Booth," she chided him gently, sitting down at the small table so she was facing him. "Tomorrow's most likely going to be an incredibly long night as well."

"I tried," his bare shoulders moved up and down carelessly. "Bed's too lonely without you in it."

She shook her head, but gratefully drank in the sight of his barely-clad body along with her tea and decided she liked his sleep-rumpled hair and five o'clock shadow. It was even better when he pushed off the door frame and padded across the floor toward her, muscles rippling with each step.

He gave her a lazy grin as he sat down across from her, "Enjoying your tea, Bones?"

"Mmm hmm," she managed, quickly taking another sip to emphasize her point.

The brazenly arrogant man stretched so as to showcase the breadth of his shoulders, then grinned, linking his fingers together behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. She tried hard to glare at him, but could not, which only made him more smug, until finally she drank down the last of her tea and set it down.

As coolly as she could, she took her cup to the sink, rinsed it out, and deposited it in the dishwasher. Booth was still looking quite satisfied with himself so she walked directly up to him, released her hair from the confines of her ponytail with a gentle shake and in a breathy voice she'd been practicing for quite some time asked, "Mr. Booth, do you know what the punishment is for not going to bed at a proper hour?"

The look had its intended effect and while she didn't get a bath that night, she did relieve all of her stress.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Booth decided when he awoke with her wrapped up beside him that she really was as spontaneous as she'd claimed to be for so many years and he loved that about her. He wasn't sure how long he lay there studying the way her hair framed her sleeping face and the perfect shape of her hips and legs under the light sheet, but when she shifted onto her side slightly he did too and eventually he fell back asleep.

The next thing he was aware of was the sound of the shower running and the emptiness of his arms. He was about to rectify that when the water stopped and she emerged with a cloud of steam behind her, wearing nothing but panties and a towel wrapped around her head.

"Oh you are not leaving this room any time soon," his gravelly voice informed her, while his hand beckoned her back into bed.

"I have to go back to the lab," she answered with more than a tinge of regret, "and then to my seminar, which I will need you to pick me up from to go to the dinner tonight."

"Wait," he sat up in bed, more awake than he wanted to be now. "You're going to be gone all day?"

"It wasn't my original plan, but yes," she nodded. "Even if I didn't have the seminar I would need to go back to the lab. This could be our first major find."

Her eyes lit up at that the same way they had when they'd flown to China, or found out that Anok hadn't really killed his brother, and he reminded himself that this was the sort of thing that she'd become an anthropologist for. A wave of jealousy gripped him as he tried to remember the last time working one of their cases had gotten her so excited and couldn't.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she dressed, looking quizzically at him.

"I'm fine," he answered quickly. "Really. I'm happy for you, Bones."

"You _say_ that," her head tilted to one side, "but your body language and vocal inflection suggest otherwise."

"Huh," grunted Booth, standing up and moving toward her. "I knew all those lessons on how to read people would turn around to bite me."

"That sounds unsanitary," she murmured as he closed the gap between them and descended on her lips.

He deepened the kiss and let his hands rove freely, steering her slowly but surely back to the bed and he thought he was in the clear when she suddenly took control and ultimately pulled herself free.

"You have an interesting method for avoiding my questions," she smiled, her lips still so close he could feel the puffs of air against his own.

"I try."

"Booth," she pouted. "Why did you seem upset? Is it because I have to go to work? Because you knew that my duties here would most likely be time-consuming."

For what seemed like an eternity to both of them, he said nothing and she continued to try and catch his eye until finally he caved. "Sometimes," he spoke slowly and softly, "I see what you're doing here and I wonder if you'll ever want to go back."

"Go back to what?" she was just as confused as she had been before.

"To DC, and the murder, and the danger," he met her eyes and wondered honestly. "Will you really be happy to go back to all of that after whole year of doing what you really love? Because no matter how badly I want you to be my partner again I won't stand in the way of what makes you happy, Bones. I could never do that to you."

"This experiment," she said for lack of a better term, "is showing me things, Booth. Things that I wouldn't have seen if we had remained in DC." His face fell again and she quickly scrambled for the correct words, "I needed some perspective, Booth, and I've gotten it. I'm still getting it. And yes, I'm enjoying my job here, but even more than that I enjoy having a home to come back to at the end of the day, and someone who cares that I haven't eaten or am working too hard. It's been a long time since I felt as safe and secure as I do here with you, Booth, and for that alone I would not trade this experience."

"You like living with me?" he clarified.

Her head bobbed up and down, "Very much so. But I miss our work partnership as well," she assured him. "And unless something drastic were to happen I can say with almost complete confidence that when this year has passed, you and I will go back to DC and resume our former lives."

"I'd like that a lot, Bren," the affectionate nickname slipped out before he realized what he'd said and for a moment he stiffened, then relaxed at the soft smile that curved up her lips.

"So would I, Seeley," his given name rolled off of her lips tentatively and it was his turn to smile his approval of it, never recalling a time when he'd liked the sound of his name more.

The fact that they wouldn't merely be resuming the life that they'd left behind in a year stayed unspoken between them because it was obvious. They hadn't been gone from DC quite a month and already they had changed from the people they were when they'd left. A level of intimacy had been established that neither one of them had experienced as adults before and while it frightened and unnerved both of them some days it was a thing they were growing more and more comfortable with, as well as something they were coming to rely on more with each day that passed.

"By the way," she said after they'd eaten and she was gathering her things to leave, "there are two things I'm doing here that I love."

"Anthropology and..." he wasn't sure what she was getting at.

She smirked and dropped a kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear, "You."


	14. It's Not Easy Seeing Green

Chapter 14: It's Not Easy Seeing Green

By twelve-thirty, Booth had exercised, showered, finished the work he'd brought home, mowed the postage stamp of a backyard, cooled off in the community pool, and was currently eating lunch and wondering what he was going to do with himself for the next five hours until he could drive to Georgetown and pick up Bones.

She'd taken a cab to the lab after breakfast and had texted him as the team rode in the van on their way to the seminar. She'd taken her fancy clothes to change into and he was meeting her so they could drive to the dinner together. That had been her idea so they could spend a little time with each other before she got busy again, and he'd had no objections whatsoever.

When he finished lunch he concluded that he was completely and utterly bored without either Brennan or Parker around to do things with. He was up in their room, considering taking a nap when he spotted a few boxes that still hadn't been unpacked and decided to make that his next project instead. Bones had made a few off-handed comments about how nice it would be when they didn't have to maneuver around the boxes anymore and while he didn't tell her he still had boxes in his apartment in DC that hadn't been emptied since he'd last moved, he figured he might as well empty these ones since he had the time.

Most of the stuff was his anyway, he discovered as he got to work. There were some of his favorite books, including the one she'd dedicated to him, along with a few movies in the first, and the second held a good-sized stack of LPs. He actually enjoyed sifting through the box of vintage t-shirts and even found a few of his flashier socks and ties he thought he'd left in DC.

The last box he got to had been underneath a few of the other boxes at the back of their closet. He smiled when he pulled out Brainy Smurf, remembering the bidding war he'd gotten into on E-bay with an avid Smurf collector from Delaware to get it for her, and smiled even wider when he found Jasper too. The pink plastic pig had come from Wal-Mart after he'd wandered all of the other aisles in search of a gift that said, "thank you for saving my life," to a woman who could buy herself just about anything.

Palming them, he went over and set one on either side of her alarm clock for her to see in the morning. It was only when he came back to the closet and reached into the box again that it registered in his mind that this box was probably all her things, and she might see it as an invasion of her privacy for him to keep unpacking it. Just as he was taking his hand out, it brushed against something he recognized and he couldn't help but grab it and pull it free.

A piece of paper fluttered to the floor as he took it out but he didn't even see it as his eyes fixed on what was in front of him.

"Aw, Bones," he let out a jagged sigh.

The familiar green material was stiff with blood in places and had been crudely cut up one side, most likely by the EMTs hurrying to save the person wearing it. On second thought, he wondered why they had because he knew he hadn't had it zipped that night- he almost never zipped his jackets unless it was bitter cold out. His fingers brushed against the pockets in one of the sleeves, remembering how he used to hide little treats for Parker to find in them, and the breast pocket that was perfect for tucking away his notebook and pen.

It took more effort than he'd thought it would to drag his eyes to his left, though once he did, he couldn't take them off of the circular bloodstain that seemed both larger and smaller than it should've been. His left hand reached up unconsciously to touch the spot just beside where his jacket used to rest and for a moment he swore he could feel the pressure of her palm there too. With his eyes closed he could picture her face above him, her voice wild with fear as she begged him to hang on.

"I tried," the words slipped from his lips so low he wasn't entirely sure he'd spoken them aloud.

A smaller bundle fell onto his lap as the jacket unfurled all of the way. Curious, he laid the jacket on top of the box and picked the other ball of fabric up. It too was stained with his blood, but instead of the black shirt he'd expected, he saw green and knew that it belonged to her. Again, his eyes closed, this time watching a lively, happy Bones, with sleeves so long they wrapped around with her hand on the mike, her chunky necklace bouncing as she did, letting go in a way she never had around anyone but him, and his chest swelled with the same pride and love as it had two years before.

The harsh beeping of the alarm clock he'd set for his nap startled him out of the memory and he carefully folded the soft shirt and set it back in the box, then did the same with his jacket. It was only then that the card on the floor caught his eye and then sight of his smiling face underlined with the dates of his birth and his death sent a chill up his spine and he quickly tossed it on top of the rest, pushing the whole thing to the back of the closet where he'd found it.

As he dressed mechanically in the hand-tailored tuxedo she'd insisted on buying him, he tried to imagine what it must've been like for her during those two weeks. He knew for himself the only thing that had gotten him through was the thought that he'd see her soon. The only reason he'd obeyed his superiors and not contacted anyone from the safe house they'd put him up in was because he thought that the people he loved- Parker, Pops, and Bones- knew that he was alive; that he hadn't abandoned her like everyone else important to her.

Had she called Max, who they had just freed, to tell him what had happened? Had she let Angela come over and take care of her? Questions he should've known the answers to years ago assailed him during the hour-long drive to Georgetown's downtown grad school, making him feel as if he'd failed her completely at the time. Looking back it was easy to see why she'd gotten mad enough to break into his house and chew him out in his bathroom, clothes or no clothes, and she'd had every right to too.

But all he had focused on at the time was that he'd done the best he could've with the intel he'd been given and he couldn't have changed it, no matter how much they both might've wanted him to. He hadn't had the luxury to dwell long on it back then, though, because not even a week after he'd come back, she'd had to deal with a fresh round of grief with Zack's betrayal. Now that he had the time, he wondered just how raw her heart had been scraped, and if it had ever fully healed.

He wove through the city and found the Maluku Project van easily enough and shook his head at the driver who was sound asleep even though the windows were wide open. He'd made better time than he'd thought, and after flashing his badge at the seminar's rent-a-cop, slipped into an empty seat at the back of the huge lecture hall in time to catch the last of her speech.

From the way she kept shift her weight from one foot to the other he could tell she was flagging, but nobody else could, and her voice certainly didn't give any hint of fatigue away. She gave a few closing remarks, thanking them for coming and saying that she hoped to visit again with even more exciting finds to share, then stepped down. The lecture hall erupted with applause and he stood to his feet with the rest of them to honor her.

Down at the lectern, Brennan gave a shy wave and a nod of thanks, making eye contact with as many as she could as she panned the crowd. A much more genuine smile burst across her face when she spotted Booth in the back row, clapping heartily along with everyone else. He gave her a little wave and she waved back just before she turned and left the stage.

A group of eager grad students crowed around her almost immediately, each with several questions they still had for her. She replied as diplomatically as she could that she needed to leave for another speaking engagement, and was never more thankful than when Booth's broad shoulders cut through the crowd toward her.

"Dr. Brennan, this way," he called to her as if he were her bodyguard, flashing his badge and ordering people politely, but firmly, to step back.

She stepped willingly into the pocket of protection his body created for her and in less time than she thought possible they were ushered out a side door and away from the masses. They found Marcie who showed her to a side room where her formal wear was waiting and she was not at all surprised by the complaints she heard Booth logging with the assistant while Brennan changed. He was still going at it by the time she'd finished all but putting on her jewelry, so she stepped out of the room, thanked Marcie and promised they would meet her in Richmond, and beckoned Booth to come in and help her finish up.

The door closed behind them and he pressed her gently up against it as his lips devoured hers as soon as they were alone. She kissed back, calming whatever irrational fears he seemed to have for her safety, and assuring him with her touch that she was every bit as glad to see him again as he was her.

"Your tuxedo fits you very nicely," she breathed when they separated, running her palms down his chest appreciatively.

"You look hot too," he grinned, stealing another kiss.

They exchanged inane details about their days as she fumbled with the clasp on her necklace, eventually letting him move her hands and take over. He planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck as he finished and declared her fit to go, hefting her garment bag over his shoulder and offering his free arm to her as they walked out.

He was still hyper-vigilant as they exited the building and walked over to where he had parked but no one bothered them and she waved politely to her colleagues as they climbed in Booth's SUV and drove off.


	15. Stand By Your Man

Chapter 15: Stand By Your Man

She spent the first part of the trip gratefully eating the food he'd gotten for her and splitting a milkshake with him, trying all the while not to spill anything onto her clothes. Booth had gotten himself a large container of popcorn chicken that he was eating from, as well as an extra-large sized fries for them to share.

"You should grab a nap," he told her after she'd finished. "We've still got an hour and a half to go."

"No," she shook her head stubbornly, "the whole point of you picking me up was so that we could spend time together. I'll be alright."

"Bones, you came home at an ungodly hour last night, got up at the butt-crack of dawn this morning, and this is probably the longest you've gotten to sit down all day," he laid out the facts for her. "It's not going to offend me if you take a nap; though it might offend these potential donors if you fall asleep in the middle of dinner."

"Thank you for that scintillating image even though it wasn't dawn," she said drily. "And I'll be fine."

Booth grabbed a CD out of the center console with one hand and gave it to her, "Put this on, close your eyes, and get some sleep, Temperance. I promise I'll still be here when you get up."

She groused about him being an annoying alpha-male, but as the smooth strains of jazz filled the air and she leaned back in her seat, she found herself yawning and before long, she was asleep. Booth smiled over as her breathing regulated and she began to snore softly. If he'd had a bed to offer her he would've made her lay on that, but as it was he was just thankful she hadn't put up more of a fight.

He'd managed, so far, to keep all of the emotional turmoil finding his jacket and her shirt had stirred up, and when they'd talked in the dressing room about his day he'd left that part out. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her about it, but more that he wasn't sure where to start, and he didn't want to churn things up when they wouldn't have time to really talk.

So instead he turned his thoughts to the obvious security issues that he would need to further address with Marcie if Bones was going to continue speaking to such large crowds. He'd been less-than pleased at how quickly she'd been mobbed by the students at Georgetown and even less by the fact that no one but him did anything to free her from it. On one level he knew that it was a part of her job, but at the same time there had to be limits or she would burn herself out fast.

The other thing that concerned him security-wise was his girlfriend's unique status of world-renowned forensic anthropologist _and_ best-selling crime novelist. While it was something that they'd only had to deal with a handful of times back home, Bones was a celebrity in her own right because of her books. All he needed was Oliver or some other crazy Brennanite taking advantage of how little security there was around her during these speaking engagements.

What made things worse was he knew he couldn't be there all of the time for her and for a guy who'd spent the last five years as her "gun" that was frustrating. He didn't trust the campus security on the college campuses she'd be visiting and Marcie had confirmed that she had no security lined up at all for the dinners; though at least those were, for the most part, by invitation only.

"Are we there yet?" Brennan suddenly stirred, yawning and stretching as widely as she could.

"We've got about a half an hour to go," answered Booth, putting his own thoughts aside. "Traffic's been light, so we're making pretty good time. You've been out for a little over an hour. Do you feel better?"

"I do," she admitted. "Apparently I was more tired than I thought."

"It's been a long couple of days," he said sympathetically.

She yawned again, "And it's not over yet."

He asked her about the find and she explained it as best she could. The remains that had been found were old, perhaps the oldest yet from that part of the world, and the end goal was to discover as much as possible about how the skeletal structure differed from a modern person. While her initial findings didn't indicate any earth-shattering revelations, it was a definite step in the right direction for the project and could still yield revealing information on human development.

To Booth's relief, there was a state trooper checking ID to let people into the very exclusive banquet hall and he wondered while they waited in the valet line, "So are these people here your kind of rich or Hodgins'?"

She laughed at the distinction and after a moment's consideration answered, "The median income is easily six figures, though some represent corporations that make much, much more."

"So Hodgins' kind," he nodded. "Good to know."

"Do I need to remind you to be on your best behavior?" she teased.

"Well, I was going to hock a loogie when we got in, but I guess I can put that off," he winked.

She rolled her eyes, "I was referring more to your sometimes open disdain for the upper class."

He pulled up to the front of the line and got out, pleasantly surprised to find her waiting for him to come around to her side and let her out.

"I'll behave," he whispered in her ear as he opened the door and offered his arm.

She took it, smiling her thanks, and moving in step with him as they walked up to the entrance. A doorman ushered them in and pointed them in the direction of the main ballroom. Booth fiddled with his tie as he took in the opulence of the place, trying not to think about how many years he'd have to work to afford even a fraction of what was on display.

They were almost near the ballroom's entrance when Brennan pulled him down a vacant side hall far away from the small crowd that was already gathering despite the fact they were early.

"Need another one of my famous pep talks, Bones?" asked Booth with a wink.

She shook her head and brushed a piece of imaginary lint off of his black jacket, "I don't care how much money you make."

"Oo-kay," he felt lost. "Good to know."

"You seemed like you were uncomfortable and the last dinner we went to you implied that my wealth sets me apart from you and I wanted to you know that's not true," the words tumbled out of her all at once and she took a deep breath before continuing. "It appalls me that your pay grade isn't higher given the dedicated services you provide for your country year in and year out, but whether you were the richest man here or the poorest, I would still esteem you the highest; not because of what you make but because of who you are."

"Wow," he gulped. "Thanks, Bones."

Words stuck in his throat, especially when her hand drifted off of his collar and came to rest on his shoulder. She followed his gaze, watching as his hand lifted to cover hers, and they stood there with the silence insulating them for several minutes.

He leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on her lips, then proffered his elbow again and smiled as she linked her arm with his and laid her head on his shoulder, leaving almost no room between them. Her head only came up when they entered the ballroom, but even then she didn't move from his side.

Dinner was decent and afterward as they worked the room she proudly introduced him as they went from person to person, boasting about him to the ones who looked down their noses. As the night progressed, he stayed by her side, smiling and nodding and making conversation where he needed to. It took everything in him not to laugh when a representative from the Cantilever Group began bragging about all of the things they sponsored, especially when he recognized the guy as a pompous windbag Hodgins was always mocking, but he managed to restrain himself until they were far enough away not to be overheard.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked almost shyly when the music began to play.

"I'd be honored," he bowed low and led her out to the dance floor.

The first dance was a more formal one, which he fudged his way through by watching what everyone else around them was doing, but thankfully it was the only one. He wasn't nearly ready to give up the luxury of holding her so close when he did, but it was getting later and she was starting to flag so he led them off of the dance floor and left her at the table while he got them something to drink.

Victor was talkingwith her when he went back, discussing some anthropological thing or another. Brennan thanked Booth for the glass of water and linked her free hand with his when he pulled up a chair beside her. The action didn't go unnoticed by the other scientist, but to his credit he said nothing and behaved in a manner that was no less than professional, even addressing Booth directly when he bid them good night.

"Ready to blow this joint?" Booth asked as the crowd began to dwindle.

"As long as that means we can go home and straight to bed, yes," she needed no convincing.

This time it was Booth who started yawning on the way back to the SUV and by the time the valet pulled it around, Brennan had persuaded him to let her drive them back since she had gotten to sleep on the way there. Despite his protestations, she hadn't driven more than five miles before a soft snore emanated from the passenger's seat and she had to shake him several times before he finally woke up when they arrived back home.

In record time they shed their formal clothes and fell into bed, both looking forward to doing absolutely nothing the next day.


	16. Packing Their Burdens

Chapter 16: Packing Their Burdens

The first thing Brennan was aware of when she awoke was that the sun was much higher in the sky than she was used to. Booth's arms surrounded her, holding her close as he slept, his bare chest rising and falling in a gentle, rhythmic, pattern. She studied his face, noting how relaxed the fine lines around his eyes looked as they enjoyed a reprieve from Booth's constant vigilance when he was awake. For a man who had once gently rebuked her for carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, he took on enough of it himself.

If someone had asked her six months ago how well she knew Seeley Booth, she would have replied that she knew him quite well: what foot he led with, what hand he drank his coffee with, the styles of music he enjoyed listening to, and whether or not he liked brown sugar on his oatmeal. She had known that he loved his son deeply, was devoted to his grandfather, worried about his brother, and had unresolved issues with his father.

What she had discovered once she began living in the same house with him and sharing her life with him, was that she had known only what he had allowed her to see; and that what he had kept hidden ran much deeper than she could ever have fathomed. Far from making him less of a man in her eyes the revelation of his faults and inner turmoil had only made her respect him all the more. And the love that she had withheld from him, and from herself, she was learning to freely admit to so that it could work as a salve on the rawer parts of his lion heart.

He shifted in his sleep, his arms loosening their hold, allowing her to turn over and look at the clock. It was after ten, but for once she didn't feel obligated to leave her cozy confines. Just before she rolled back over, something caught her eye and she shook her head, recognizing the clock's new sentinels. They certainly hadn't been there when she left yesterday morning, and she smiled at the thought that had gone into each of the gifts; how his eyes had twinkled with a mixture of mischief and tenderness with each presentation. She wondered whether he had remembered that her nightstand was where she had kept them in DC, or if he had placed them there impulsively when he'd found them.

It didn't take her mind long to reason that if he had unpacked the box with Jasper and Brainy Smurf, he more than likely seen what else she had stowed there. Swallowing the lump in her throat as she frantically searched her memories from the previous night for any hint that he knew, she chastised herself for bringing them to Virginia with her in the first place.

Her mind was restless as she contemplated the consequences for doing so and her body quickly followed suit, so that when he shifted again, freeing her completely, she slipped out of the bed and opened the closet door as stealthily as she could. Groping behind the row of neatly pressed suits, she found the box and knew instantly that its contents had been handled since she'd packed it. His card was on top of everything, the jacket and shirt now separate rather than wadded together.

Without hesitation, she removed all three items, lifting the jacket to her face as she had so many times before and this time catching the scent of his cologne that had long-since faded no matter how many times she had willed it back.

She jumped slightly at his soft touch and the rasp of his sleep-laden voice, "Bones."

The name, that stupid nickname that he'd slapped on her six years ago, cut her to the core and made a tear slip out, unguarded. For two weeks she'd gone without hearing it. No, "Bones, chop, chop!" or, "Bones, what can you give me?" There had been no one to make her eat. No one to tell her to go home. No one to give her a guy hug and assure her that everything was going to be alright.

A calloused thumb brushed the tear away and she hated herself because this was not a burden she wanted to laden him with, and for the last two years she'd done a good job keeping all of the emotions from those two weeks tucked safely away from him. Yes, she'd been furious with him at the time for doing nothing to contact her personally, but rationally she knew he never would have chosen to leave her out of such an important notification and it could have been dangerous for both of them if he had broken protocol and contacted her.

The silence continued to stretch out between them, until he knelt down and joined her on the floor, their bodies so close they brushed up against one another, "I remember hearing Noonan call out my name and tell me she was 'doing this for us' as she leveled her gun at you."

"You stood," she picked up the story from her perspective on the stage. "Stepped right into the bullet without stopping to consider the consequences."

"I considered them," he said firmly. "Time slowed to almost a crawl and I knew, I _knew_, Bones, that I couldn't let her hurt you. Kill you. Not for you. Not for me. A world without you in it wasn't an option."

"You stiffened when it hit you and the entire bar was stunned," she recalled. "Then you looked down and crumpled to the ground."

He let out a grunt, "It hurt like hell, then it didn't, and I saw you step in front of me and watched you get the shot off, even if I couldn't see whether you made it or not. Then you were right there, holding me and begging me to hang on. I tried, Bones," his voice cracked with emotion. "I swear I tried but I couldn't."

She sniffed, picking up her shirt and looking down at his jacket on her lap, "There was blood. So much blood. No matter how much pressure I applied it kept coming."

"But you held it back," he took her hand reverently in his, caressing her palm. "You held on for me."

Blue-gray eyes met dark brown, and hers faltered, focusing instead on the view of the scar his bare chest provided, "I told the paramedics that I was a doctor so that they would let me ride in the ambulance with you, but when we got to the hospital they pushed me aside and refused to let me back no matter what I threatened, or who I spoke to. Cullen was already there and had given orders, I suppose. He was the one who informed all of us that you had lost too much blood and hadn't made it through the surgery successfully."

"No," his voice dropped to a mere whisper, the weight of it conveying that he understood how she had interpreted Cullen's pronouncement. "No, no, Bones. The docs, they told me later if it hadn't been for you I would've bled out. You saved me and I never- I never thanked you for that. So, thanks," he gave her a smile and the corners of her lips moved up of their own accord.

They sat there on the floor, saying nothing because nothing needed to be said. She could see the depth of guilt he felt over her not being vetted and he could tell just how dark and painful those two weeks without him had been. Carefully, he reached over and took the shirt from her hands, pausing one last time to look at it before gently folding and replacing it in the box. Following his lead she picked his jacket up and did the same, setting the card on top of it all.

"It's good to remember sometimes," he commented as he helped her up. She tilted her head in an unspoken question and he smiled, "So that we don't take things, or people, for granted."

She nodded, standing on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his unshaven cheek, and the spell was broken. Booth proposed a shower and afterward they worked side-by-side in the kitchen preparing a large brunch. Once sated, they turned their attentions to some of the household chores that had gone by the wayside over the course of the busy week.

"Time for a break," Booth announced, putting the vacuum cleaner back into the closet in the foyer.

"A break?" she gave him a dubious look.

"Yup," he nodded. "The pool here's great and we're going for a dip."

It took a few more minutes to persuade her but before long they were both in their swimsuits and scouring the linen closet for extra towels. Booth pointed out that it was a little bit of a walk to the pool and he threw on a short-sleeved blue jean shirt on that he left unbuttoned, while Brennan claimed one of his old Army shirts.

There were a few other late-afternoon swimmers but for the most part they had the pool to themselves. He found out quickly what a good swimmer she was after she beat him twice in a row by a good body-length. Not that he particularly minded getting to watch her from behind; especially when she raised her bikini-clad body up out of the pool and onto the concrete deck.

An in-ground hot tub was also at the pool area and after they'd gotten their fill of swimming in the larger pool, they relaxed in the warmer one.

"We should bring Parker here next weekend," Booth decided. "He'd love it."

"Well, that _is_ why he wanted you to date me in the first place," they both laughed.

"Yeah," Booth smirked, "at least he hasn't said anything about me getting 'sexed up' lately. Lemme tell you how fun _that _was explaining to Rebecca; never mind Angela's face paint that didn't quite come off."

They soaked and talked for a little while longer before toweling off and heading back. She slipped her hand beneath the open shirt and around his waist, walking as close as she could and enjoying weight of his arm around her shoulder.

"So if you're not planning on working yourself to the bone tomorrow I have a field trip to take you on after work," announced Booth as they ate a light dinner out on the back patio. Ignoring the bad pun she arched a questioning eyebrow and waited for his response, "It's not far, I promise, and I also promise you'll like it."

"Are you intending on keeping it a surprise or is this one of those things that I have to accept and then you'll tell me?" she wondered out loud.

"Option B," he winked.

"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "Where are you taking me?"

"Academy gun range," he grinned widely, looking for her reaction. He wasn't disappointed as her eyes lit up and he went on, "I figure I'd let you brush up on your mad gun skillz before your big teaching debut."

"And perhaps we could have a little friendly shooting competition while we're there?" she challenged him.

"Loser does dishes for a week?" he sweetened the pot.

"Deal."

"Oh it is on, Bones," he leaned across the table, putting his best charm smile forward. "It. Is. On."

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**A/N:**

**I love the green jacket; that whole time period is an obsession of mine and I hope I did it justice. Please let me know either way.**

**Now, I'll be going away Sunday so this is my last post until at least Monday, the 16th. I'm packing my trusty notebook and pen to write more, but we're helping my brother and his new wife move across the country so I'll be busy. For those of you who follow the Wonderful World/Home/Blue Eyes saga, you'll be happy to know I'm also working on that and will begin revising the entire series (for typos, glaring errors, etc) in preparation for the launch of an all new chapter in the saga come September.**

**Anyway, I hope you all have a great week and I'll see you soon. But brace yourselves because this ride is about to head to the next level when I get home!**

**Thanks for all who read, and especially those who review!**

**Gum :)**


	17. Aiming His Gun

**Hey! How is everyone? I'm back with a new chapter and look for new revisions coming to Wonderful World very, very soon. I've got HUGE plans for the new saga fic to follow up Blues Eyes and a whole lot of action coming up very shortly right here in Horizon. So, let's get started, shall we?**

**Gum :)**

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Chapter 17: Aiming His Gun

Brennan wasn't sure whether it was the potential career-changing set of remains waiting for her at the lab, or the prospect of going to the shooting range with Booth after work, but she woke up the next morning eager to face the day. Booth was excited too for his first day of teaching outside of the classroom and chose to stay back and make pancakes for breakfast while Brennan went on her run.

"Smells delicious!' she said on coming back in and sniffing the air.

"We have blueberry, chocolate chip, and plain," he pointed at the three plates of pancakes.

"I think I'll shower first," she smiled, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

"Eat now, shower later," insisted Booth with a suggestive wink.

She shook her head knowingly, skirting away from his reach, "I'll be right back."

He pouted, but went back to cooking up the rest of the batter. When she descended the stairs several minutes later he was cutting up fresh fruit as he hummed to himself. She smiled at the sight and got out the dishes and silverware they'd need.

"You don't have to stop," she told him as he got quiet upon noticing she was back.

He smiled and resumed the humming and she hummed along with him as they got everything out on the table and sat down to eat. The food tasted as good as it smelled and Brennan told him as much; though they didn't have much time to linger over it before they left for work.

"I'll be back for you at five," Booth told her when they got to the lab. "Gonna have time for lunch today?"

"I'll let you know by eleven," she promised. "It depends on what kind of results the findings yield."

"Have fun with your bones, Bones," he grinned at his joke while she rolled her eyes and leaned in for one final kiss across the center console.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

It was just before eleven when she sent a text letting him know she was, indeed, bogged down with work and most likely would be going back in after they were done at the range later too. When class let out, he texted back, confirming that he'd pick her up around five and reminding her that she did need to eat along the way. Her response was quick and assured him she'd eat lunch at some point.

A group of the guys taking his interrogation class invited him to join them for lunch. They all sat around swapping stories until it was time for Booth to leave for his next class. They spent most of the period running through the first of the mock scenarios that Booth had drawn up, then he let them know that Bones would be coming in the next day and the specified the kind of behavior and respect he expected them to grant her.

While Booth was relaxing at lunch with the guys, Brennan spent her lunch hour hunting down results from a sample she'd submitted before leaving for the seminar on Saturday. By one, she'd deduced that the sample and the results were nowhere to be found and that she would have to submit another one. This time when she was done preparing it, she walked it personally to its destination and proceeded to give the department head a thorough dressing down for their negligence. She had paperwork proving her original sample had gotten to the department, but it hadn't been processed, and beyond that, it had been lost. Shoddy work was not acceptable; especially on a find of such potential magnitude.

Keeping her word to Booth, she grabbed a sandwich from one of the vending machines and ate while catching up on her morning paperwork, as well as some of her email correspondence. She was in and out of her office all afternoon and had just received her expedited results from a few of the other tests she'd sent in on Saturday when Booth arrived to pick her up. The car ride over to the range was spent reviewing the files; which he made her leave in the car when they got out.

"Okay, first things first," Booth said when they got to the armory, "let's find you a gun you can use- not like that hand-cannon you got at the mall." She glared at him and rolled her eyes, but he was firm, "I'm serious, Bones, you wouldn't use anything less than the best when it comes you your fancy equipment at the lab for your little project stuff, would you?"

"No," she shook her head. "Using the proper equipment allows us to work more efficiently."

Booth smiled a nod, "Exactly. So when you're shooting, the gun's your equipment, and the one you choose can affect how good or bad your aim is."

"You carry multiple guns," she pointed out, "of varying sizes."

"They're for different purposes," he explained, "but each one is something I can pull out and use easily. Time isn't one of those luxuries you get in the field, as you know."

They spent a few minutes with her handling several weapons to see which one she was most comfortable with. Along the way, Booth gave her a rundown on features such as the firepower, accuracy, and overall power of each one. She settled on a Glock 19 and they picked up their ammo and ear protection and moved to the adjoining firing lanes they'd been assigned.

"Go ahead and show me what you've got," he invited when they were ready.

Once their earmuffs and glasses were in place, she took careful aim and fired, shooting several rounds into the paper target 50 feet away. Booth stood back, saying nothing but analyzing everything she was doing.

"Not bad," he smiled when she'd finished and taken the earmuffs off, then stepped forward. "Want a few pointers?"

She nodded.

Wrapping his right hand around hers, he gripped the gun, "The first thing is to make sure you have a nice firm hold on the hand grip."

"Firm grip," she repeated to herself.

He nodded, taking her left hand and wrapping it around the other side, then he aligned her thumbs so they pointed downrange, "You don't want any air space between your hand and the gun. Not that you want to choke it, but you do need to hold it fairly tight."

Her head bobbed up and down as she absorbed what he was saying. She felt her back warm as it came in contact with his chest; his arms already wrapped around her. His foot moved between her legs, gently spreading them until they were shoulder-width apart.

He tapped her left thigh, "This should be your lead foot. Now stand like this," he positioned her torso with the flats of his palms to guide her, then stepped back. "Good, now lean forward a little and find your center of balance."

She did so and he instructed her to straighten her right elbow almost all the way out. His voice sounded low and soft in her ear as he instructed her how to align her front and rear sights and bring the weapon to bear at the fresh target.

"Time the firing with your breathing," he told her, stepping back even more, but still close enough she could sense him at her back. "And don't jerk the trigger when you squeeze, just keep the pressure nice and constant."

Ignoring her body's response to his words, coupled with his nearness, and the intimately soft voice he was using, she evened her breathing, making sure her aim was true, and fired. Four shots rang out in rapid succession.

"See," Booth smiled, stepping closer again, "much better!"

"One-on-one tutelage can have that result," she grinned slyly.

His eyes widened slightly when she asked if he was going to fire his, but he just chuckled and shook his head, claiming he didn't need the practice. She fired off a few more rounds, then declared herself ready and fresh targets were set for both of them.

After a short debate over who was to go first, Brennan did, carefully following all of Booth's instructions from the last time. Again, her aim improved and she was quite pleased with the final results; though she knew from the look Booth tried to hide that she wasn't going to come anywhere near close to his best score.

"No holding back for me," she demanded as he loaded his own gun with the practice shells. "Because if I suspect you are, you'll be sleeping on the couch _and_ doing the dishes for the entire week."

"Noted," he tossed her a salute.

Silence fell as he took his stance.

"Is your grip firm?" she whispered in his ear just as he lined up for his first shot. "Mmm, yes," she licked her lips loudly, "spread those legs."

That earned her a glare over his shoulder to which she gave a sultry pout, "What? Aren't you snipers trained to block out distractions?"

A determined glint lit his eyes as he turned back around and readied himself again.

"I love that even, constant pressure, don't you?" she panted behind him. "It's the best way to go."

As she said go, he fired several shots, then holstered the gun and whirled around, trapping her against the lane divider. She tilted her chin up in a silent dare and wasn't disappointed when milliseconds later, his lips crashed down roughly on hers, keeping one ramrod straight arm above her shoulder, while the other hand pressed on her hip. The need for oxygen forced them to separate and another round of shots being fired nearby reminded them they were in a public place.

"You beat me," Brennan remarked, unsurprised, when the targets were retrieved.

"I always hit what I aim for," he grinned smugly, tapping her nose, "and I _never_ miss around you."

"Never?" she questioned and he shook his head.

"Sure you have to go back to work?" he asked as they left hand-in-hand.

"Unfortunately, yes," she sighed, then smiled. "This was a very fun diversion, though."

"You like losing to me?" he teased, poking her shoulder.

She jabbed back harder, then shoved him playfully as they laughed and joked about seeing how he'd like winning when she touched him with her dishpan hands. When they were in the car, Booth took out his phone and called in an order at the Chinese place they both liked and had it delivered to the lab.

They easily beat the food there and Booth hung around the front door to wait for it while Brennan went back to her office. She was already elbow-deep in paperwork when he came in with everything and he set her up with chopsticks and a drink, then set the cartons on the desk and sat down opposite her to eat. They traded cartons back and forth as she kept working, and when they finished, Booth cleaned up the mess and got started on his own paperwork.

It was a little after midnight when he looked over to find her fast asleep on her keyboard, the screen filled with a random jumble of letters she'd fallen on. Quietly, he gathered all of their things, then gently woke her and informed her they were going home. She didn't protest too much and was leaning on him heavily by the time they made it out to his car.

By the time they got home they were both exhausted and barely took the time to strip down before climbing into bed.

"I'll beat you next time, Booth," she mumbled against his chest as they cuddled together.

"In your dreams, Bones," he teased lightly and they both fell asleep.


	18. Shooting Things

Chapter 18: Shooting Things

While Booth had enjoyed their shooting match the day before, it was nothing compared to the anticipation he had for this day; the first time since the hoarding case that they'd worked together. Sure, he liked living with her and getting to know a whole different side of her, but a part of him hated dropping her off at the lab every morning knowing he wouldn't see her again until after five. He missed their long talks at the diner over lunch, or inventing things he had to go see her for; things that he could easily email but delivered in person, just so he'd have a reason to see her. In short, he missed his partner and today he would be getting her back.

"Boys," he addressed the all-male class he'd been teaching for the last week, "today, we're going to pair up and go over how to provide cover when you and your partner are in a shootout. Agent Miller," he waved at the man to his left, "is going to be our suspect and you'll each get your shot at trying to kill him before he kills you. Just like yesterday, we'll use the rubber bullets; any helmet or chest shots mean you're dead automatically, otherwise, you can be hit twice anywhere else. Questions?"

There were a few and he fielded them, trying not to seem impatient as he stalled for time while his partner got suited up. Finally she appeared at the back of the group and he couldn't help the goofy grin that lit up his face.

"Okay, enough questions," he held up a hand. "Now, to give you a feel for what I'm talking about, I've asked _my_ partner in DC, Dr. Temperance Brennan, to help with a little demonstration we've cooked up." He waved her forward as he kept talking, "Bones and I have been partners for five years now and have been in our fair share of shootouts over that time-"

"Not that he lets me carry a gun, usually," she interjected, drawing a chuckle from the guys. "How many times have you turned down my request to carry a concealed weapon?"

He rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly, thinking he should've known she would use this opportunity to jab at that issue, but deflected it for the time being, "Doesn't matter right now, Bones, but what _does_ matter is when the chips are down, you get a gun and I know you've got my back."

That, along with a well-timed glare that would look like he was teasing but which he knew she would know meant to drop it, seemed to mollify her for the moment. They spent the next few minutes talking back and forth on the importance of trusting one's partner fully in the field and giving a few anecdotal examples to prove their point.

Then step by step they acted out three different approach methods in slow motion, with Agent Miller's help, after which they answered a few more questions. Booth had to hide a smirk as the woman beside him became more and more excited the closer they got to the practical demonstration in real time. Apparently shooting things was still high on her list of things that she loved to do; especially when there would be no emotional baggage afterward to worry about.

"Enough talk," he said when the questions started to veer into Brennan's success as an author. "You ready to show them how this is done, Bones?"

There was a fire in her eyes and her jaw was set as she gave him a crisp nod. Booth shooed the kids out of the practice area and up to the observation platform that was off to the side, where they could get a good view of what was going on, then he sent Miller off to hide in the fake buildings while he and Brennan hung back to give Miller a head start.

When his internal countdown reached zero, he nodded to Bones and they set off after Miller. A shot pinged off the wall behind him, missing, but giving him a clearer idea of where Miller was. She tracked the sound too and thrust her chin in that direction. He nodded, warning her with his eyes to take a cautious approach.

Since this was the demo that they'd come up with and not real life, she listened to him and held back until he gave the signal. Slowly, they worked their way through the maze of buildings toward the shots and he winced when he saw her take a shot off the lower part of her flack jacket. She nodded that she was fine and they continued until they'd effectively pinned Miller down and forced him to either surrender or be "killed."

There was a round of applause from up above before Booth called them down and ordered them to suit up and get into pairs.

"You okay?" he asked as they shed their own gear and headed to the observation platform themselves while the teams took turns with Agent Miller.

"It was a graze," she assured him, "and with the jacket I didn't feel anything."

"Good." He smiled and bumped her gently, "Did you have fun?"

Her nod was enthusiastic and her eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun, "I'd forgotten how exhilarating the chase can be. Not to mention Agent Miller is a very good opponent."

"He's ex-Rangers like me," Booth nodded, watching the first of the student teams start. "If he didn't want to be caught, he wouldn't be."

"Will he be holding back for the students?" she wondered.

"Oh yeah," he confirmed. "He's not going to make it easy on them and we decided that the teams who don't take the right approach are fair game, but he's definitely holding back."

As each of the teams went through the course, Booth took notes on their performance to go over with them individually later on, but also enjoyed spending the time with Brennan at his side. She was full of questions at first, then once she caught on she began making comments and critiquing them on her own. Her sharp eyes caught everything and by the end she could easily determine when Miller was holding back considerably and when he was being challenged.

Eventually the last pair went and Booth and Brennan descended from the platform. Booth praised the teams that had excelled and encouraged those who had not. It was the first time Brennan had observed him in a teaching capacity and she was impressed with his methods. He didn't demean those who had failed, but instead impressed upon them the importance of practicing to get things right so that they could do their jobs to the best of their abilities; reminding them that one day real lives would hang in the balance and could have dire consequences.

**B&B&B&B&B**

"You're a very good teacher, Booth," she told him much later as they drove back to the lab for her to gather up a few things to take home with her.

"Thanks," he basked in the rare praise.

"You know how to bring out the best in all of your students and push them to do above and beyond what they feel they're capable of," she went on. "Which I suppose shouldn't really be a surprise."

He glanced over at her quickly before turning back to the road, "What do you mean, Bones?"

"Well," she said without hesitation, "you've been very patient with me over the years as we've gotten to know one another. I've learned a good deal from you about negotiating the social mores of interpersonal communication, not to mention learning to emote and listen to my metaphorical heart."

"Still haven't broken you of flinging ten dollar words at me, though, have I?" he teased, then became more serious. "Honestly, Bones, all that stuff you mentioned was there inside of you all along; especially the heart stuff. You've always cared so deeply about the victims we deal with and you rabidly pursue the truth because of it. I love that about you."

"To give them any less would be a disservice," said Brennan sincerely as they pulled up to the front of the building. "And you _have_ improved my people skills no matter what you claim."

"Yeah, yeah," despite the twilight, she could've sworn she saw a blush creeping up his cheeks as he waved her off. "Let's grab this stuff of yours and then we can go home and I'll give you some more tutoring in that interpersonal communication stuff; the one-on-one kind."

"How thoughtful of you," she said drily, though as soon as they were together on the sidewalk she linked arms with him and leaned into his welcoming embrace.

He let go only long enough to open the door and usher her through before he was back at her side with an arm settling comfortably around her waist. She was about to make another comment when he pulled up short, quickly pushing her behind him as he drew his sidearm and swept it back and forth.

"Stay behind me," his voice was terse, but his touch on her arm, gentle.

Craning her neck, she stood as far up on her tiptoes as she could and peered around him, then was almost immediately pushed back and told gruffly, "I mean it, Bones," even as his passed her the small revolver from his ankle holster.

They were nearing the central work area in the lab and she could now see what the source of his tension was. Every workstation they passed had been upset in one way or another; some more so than others. Papers littered the floor, though it didn't seem as if they'd been torn, just scattered, and it looked as if the more delicate equipment was still intact to her relief.

Slowly, they made their way across the room to her corner office, with no indication that the perpetrator was still lurking in the shadows caused by the dim after-hours lighting. Through the glass windows she could see that her office had been hit as well, but couldn't tell how extensive the damage was.

"Stay here until I give you the all clear," directed Booth, this time turning to face her directly, relaying the gravity of the situation with his eyes.

The inky black depths told her all she needed to know and when he told her to guard his back as he turned to go in, she nodded firmly, her own eyes sweeping the room. Ignoring the chaos of the mess that had been made she looked for anything moving along the more dimly-lit areas that didn't belong.

From behind her there was a crash, then silence.

"Booth!" she called out, and when he didn't answer her instantly, she rushed into her office after him, gun at the ready.


	19. Picking Bones

Chapter 19: Picking Bones

Thinking quickly, Brennan kept her grip on the weapon firmly in one hand, while the other slid the sunglasses that had been resting in her hair, down over her eyes and flipped on the main office light.

"Ow!" Booth yelled, shielding his eyes instinctively, then squinted through the glare. "Bones, what the hell?"

"I heard a crash," she explained, "and when I called you didn't answer."

"Yeah, 'cause I'd just cracked my shins on your trashcan that was laying in the middle of the floor," he rolled his eyes, the pain still throbbing when he stopped to think about it.

"Well, I didn't leave it there," she said defensively.

"I know _that_, Bones- hey, um, do you think we could have this conversation with you _not_ aiming my gun at my crotch?" he eyed her and the gun nervously.

She looked down for the first time and realized she still had the gun trained on him.

"Gun," Booth all but ordered, growing more and more antsy by the second. "Down. Unless, you know, you don't want kids after all."

"I do," she replied, finally lowering the weapon. "Though I hardly think this is the time and place to discuss that."

Swallowing a very snarky reply, he reminded himself that most of the time he loved the fact that she was so literal, "I agree, meanwhile it looks like whoever ransacked the lab really did a number on your office."

"And they're no longer here," she added, surveying the room for the first time.

Papers that had once been in neat stacks on her desk were now strewn across the floor in every direction. Amid the sea of white, there were books as well, and pens, and manila folders. Nothing had been left untouched and the longer she drank in the sight, the more she felt violated.

She reached down to pick up a fallen picture of the two of them, then stopped; a thought striking her, "This is a crime scene. We should call it in right away. There should be security tapes as well-"

Brennan started nervously rattling off all of the security measures that the lab did or didn't have and was just getting started on a long-winded speech on why the Maluku project shouldn't have needed the heavy security their cases did and how even if they _did_ need it the funding simply wasn't available, when Booth cut her off with a hug.

At first she didn't respond physically and just kept talking, but as her words trickled away to nothing, she latched onto him tightly, allowing him to soothe away the insecurity that was trying to gain a foothold. As she stood within the safety of his arms, not crying, but not entirely stable emotionally, she wondered how many times over the past five years he'd been there for her in this exact same manner.

A shudder ran through her when she realized just how close she'd come that night outside of the Hoover to throwing it all away, and Booth mistook it for fear stemming from their current predicament, "Hey, don't worry, Bones. We'll figure who did this to your lab."

She pondered his words as they separated long enough for him to call the authorities.

"You okay?" he asked when he got off the phone.

Brennan nodded, "This lab isn't the same as the Jeffersonian."

"You can say that again," he agreed. "This never would've happened back home and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen to you again, Bones, I promise."

"That," she smiled up at him, "I never doubted. But as I said, this is not the Jeffersonian, and while I'm shocked and thoroughly displeased by what has happened-" She paused, then released a long sigh. "This lab isn't _my_ lab; it's just where I happen to be working right now. Had this happened to at the Jeffersonian, my reaction would be quite different."

Booth bobbed his head, understanding the distinction she was making, though that did nothing to weaken his resolve to make sure she was better protected in the future. He wanted nothing more than to take her back in his arms and reassure himself she was safe, but she'd already pulled out a pair of latex gloves and was slowly but surely weaving her way through the mess to her desk and poking around gently.

That was where the techs who came in to process the scene found Brennan, with Booth helping her take a preliminary inventory of what was missing. They assured the techs that nothing had been stolen as far as they could tell and gladly gave their statements to Agent Rick Veers, who'd been assigned to the case. Since the lab technically stood on federal property, the investigation fell under the jurisdiction of the FBI. Brennan was relieved upon realizing this, knowing that she could trust them to conduct the investigation more competently, and with far greater resources than local law enforcement.

They were shooed out of her office and encouraged to go home and get some rest once their statements were logged; though neither one of them had any plans to do so and both loitered not far from her office, keeping an eye on the evidence that was being gathered from there, as well as in the main lab itself. None of the other offices had been disturbed in the break-in.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth," one of the techs called them back inside her office. "Have you seen this?" he turned the monitor from her desktop computer around.

A blue background glared at them, the words "Go Home, Bones!" floating around the screen in place of her usual screen-saver.

This time her shudder was brought on by fear, and she found herself moving as close to Booth as she could, grateful when he put an arm around her waist to steady her. By this time, Agent Veers had noticed that something important had been found and was staring at the screen with them.

"Thanks, Greg," he gently dismissed the tech, before turning to Booth and Brennan. "Do either of you know if this means something? Is the name 'Bones' in reference to you, Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes," she said slowly, her eyes flicking back to Booth and sensing a similar unease in him, "but only one person calls me that and I can assure you they were by no means associated with whomever perpetrated this break-in."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Veers shook his head. "This is looking more and more like an inside job to me. Everyone should be considered a suspect."

"Agent Veers," she stood up to her full height, arms crossing her chest as she eyed him narrowly, "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and presume that you are an intelligent man and a capable agent." He opened his mouth to thank her, but she went on, "What you have failed to acknowledge, however, is that both myself and Special Agent Booth are equally intelligent and capable ourselves, and we are more than qualified to draw conclusions based on the evidence before us.

"I am well aware of the deductive reasoning used in determining a suspect pool, and while I find that method inferior to the use of inductive reasoning, I can still say with full confidence that the person who calls me 'Bones' is _not_ a viable suspect in this investigation and I would appreciate it if you would not insinuate otherwise."

"You should listen to her, Veers," Booth smirked at the younger agent. "_Bones_ is way smarter than either one of us put together."

A very confused Veers looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what he'd obviously missed somewhere along the way, as Brennan whirled around and fixed her glare on her partner, "That's enough, Booth."

"What?" Booth tried to look innocent.

"We are _all_ going to be working together on this," she reminded him, then turned back to the still-befuddled Veers. "Booth is the only one who uses that moniker, Agent Veers. That is why I am so sure of his innocence. If you require further assurance, he and I have been together since early this afternoon; a fact which can be corroborated by several witnesses should you require further proof."

"Oh," understanding finally dawned and Veers shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary and I apologize for not believing you in the first place."

"Apology accepted," she gave a polite smile, then looked at Booth, who muttered an apology for taunting the other man. "Now then," Brennan went on as if the mattered were settled, "it's late and both Booth and I have jobs that we will need to be well-rested for in the morning, so if you have no more need of us, Agent Veers, we'll take our leave."

"Um, sure, you're free to go whenever," Veers was still trying to get his bearings again.

"Thanks," said Brennan sincerely. "Would you do us the courtesy of letting us know if you get any leads?" He nodded and she thanked him again, "We will of course provide you with any additional information that might be helpful. Good night."

And with that, she gathered up the belongings she'd brought in, looped her arm around Booth's, and led them out of the lab. Neither one said much on the drive back to their townhouse, though when they arrived, Booth motioned for her to stay behind him while he made sure there hadn't been a break-in there as well. It was only once he was sure the coast was clear both inside and outside of the house, that he ushered her in quickly, making doubly sure to lock the doors and arm the security system before they went any further into the house. He then made her stay in the foyer until he'd checked every room for signs of a disturbance. Again, there were not, and he began to breathe somewhat easier.

Long after Brennan was safely ensconced, and sleeping peacefully, in his arms, Booth lay awake wondering who it was that could want her off of the project and why in the world they had used _his_ personal nickname for her to get their message across.


	20. Nocturnal Admissions

Chapter 20: Nocturnal Admissions

"Booth!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, loud enough to startle her from her dream and make her sit bolt upright in bed.

This time, he wasn't downstairs, but right beside her, and had been sleeping lightly in case trouble arose.

"Shh," he gathered her into his arms, stroking her hair and laying her head on his chest. "I'm fine, Bones. I'm right here. It's okay."

A trembling hand traced its way up his arm, lingering for a moment on his scar, then was laid flat on his bare chest as if she was absorbing every beat of his heart. She said nothing, and though she was shaken, there were no sobs; no tears at all. He shifted slightly so that she'd be more comfortable and wondered if he should prod her into talking her way through things or just let her be.

Sooner than he'd thought possible, her breathing evened out and she fell back asleep. According to the clock it was four in the morning and he knew from long experience that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in bed just in case she had another nightmare. Instead, he kept his arms securely around her and let his mind wander.

Now that he was awake, his mind began sifting through potential suspects in the break-in. The problem was, Veers hadn't been too far off in declaring everyone a suspect. Her lab here wasn't anywhere near as secure as the Jeffersonian, so anyone who could pick a few locks could easily have gotten in. Whoever had been there also had to have a passing familiarity with computers to have cracked her password and changed the screen-saver, and it was clear as day to Booth that while they'd made a mess in the lab, it was Bones who'd been the specific target.

"You should go to sleep," her rough voice admonished him, despite her closed eyes.

"I will," he promised lamely.

"Liar."

He chuckled softly, planting a soft kiss in her hair and smiling as she turned over, her eyes meeting his in the dim light. Words seemed inadequate, so instead he put his lips to better use and leaned forward to meet hers. She met him halfway, her tongue immediately demanding entrance and setting a more frenzied pace then he'd anticipated.

All of the fear from both the nightmare and the break-in was emptied into the kiss, while her hands rubbed the surface of his back. He kept his hold on her loose, but threaded his fingers through her silky hair, and kissed her in a slow, steady way that let her know he was there for her and that she didn't need to be afraid anymore.

Eventually, the intensity waned and their lips drifted apart, though this time instead of turning away from him, she faced him, pillowing her head with his chest. They lay in silence, neither one sleeping, but neither ready to get up for the day, either. When the alarm sounded, freeing them from the need for pretense, they lingered only a few minutes longer, then got up and began preparing for the day as if it were any other.

Intense was the only word Booth could use to define their run that morning. Brennan set a grueling pace from the get go, and never slacked until they were back at the house again. She continued the pace at breakfast, eating twice her normal amount and downing tall glasses of water, orange juice, milk, and finally a mug of coffee.

"You're going to have to pee like a racehorse if you keep that up, Bones," he joked when she stuck her head in the fridge again.

When she turned back around with the water jug she arched an eyebrow at him, "I don't know what that means, but I'm quite thirsty this morning for some reason."

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest maybe it was because she'd tried to outrun all of her fears this morning after getting almost no sleep the night before, but he merely smiled and explained the phrase, then offered to load the dishes in the dishwasher for them both while she showered and got dressed.

One of the more interesting things he'd learned in sharing his life with Temperance Brennan was the more out of control she felt on the inside, the more she would seek to maintain a facade of complete order on the outside. She also would take charge of whatever she could, so he wasn't at all surprised to find the bed made, the dirty clothes from the night before put in the hamper, and a suit, tie, and socks all laid out for him by the time he got upstairs, as well as a fresh pair of boxers waiting for him in the bathroom when he went to shower.

It was also no surprise that she had selected one of her classiest shirt and skirt outfits, taking more time to style her hair and do her makeup than she had for the last three formal dinners they'd been to combined. To his relief, though, she hadn't closed herself off to him, but rather kept the conversation steady and almost normal; though deliberately light in tone.

The only time she protested was when he insisted on walking her into the lab.

"It's not as if whoever broke in will be waiting for me," she complained as he grabbed her stuff from the back and hurried around the car before she could get too far ahead of him.

"You don't know that, Bones," he pointed out. "Just humor me, okay?"

She rolled her eyes as he caught hold of her hand, "Humor you?"

"Yeah," Booth smirked. "I ran the forty-yard dash with you and let you dress me, so you let me walk you in and make sure everything's safe and sound."

"Fine," though she sounded like it was far from.

"I'll lean on Veers for what they've found so far when I get in," he said, making conversation.

"Booth," she shook her head. "While I appreciate the thought this isn't a homicide and you and I have no jurisdiction here."

"Can't hurt to ask," he shrugged.

"Would _you_ answer another agent if it were _your_ case?" questioned Brennan. "Especially if they were personally involved with the victim?"

"No," he conceded. "But I can't just sit on my hands and do nothing, either. What if next time they try something on a bigger scale?"

"We'll ford that stream when we come to it," she assured him with such confidence he didn't bother to correct her.

As soon as they were inside the lab, they separated, each taking careful stock of the scene playing out in front of them. Scientists and their interns milled around just like it was any other day, and had Booth not been there just a few hours before, he would never have known the place had been ransacked. Not even a paperclip had been left on the floor and all of the stainless steel surfaces gleamed as if they'd been recently polished.

In Brennan's office, Marcie was sitting on the couch, bent over the coffee table, and was carefully replacing neat stacks of paper back into their proper files. The books had been stacked off as well, though the aide explained she hadn't known where they belonged so she'd let them be. Brennan thanked her, then politely dismissed her to her usual duties, promising she could handle the remainder of the cleanup effort.

Booth would've gladly stayed to help, but he had his own job to go to and reluctantly left after she pointed out he was going to be late if he didn't. Her calm exterior shifted only for a minute when he gave her one last hug and she squeezed him extra hard, but she assured him she would be fine and sent him on his way.

An hour later, her office had been returned to its previous condition, if not a little neater, and she was able to don her lab coat and begin her day's work. About mid-morning a group of five FBI security agents reported to her, claiming that they had been assigned to guard the premises, including the forensic platform, and would be working in shifts around the clock from now on.

When he dropped in over his lunch break he assured her he hadn't pulled any strings to get the security detail assigned, though when pressed he'd admitted that he may or may not have contacted Hacker back in DC. Apparently Hacker had no intention of letting any harm come to one of the most valuable assets the FBI had, whether she was working for them at the moment or not, and had wasted no time giving the order for her, and by extension the Maluku Project, to be protected. Booth also admitted that he hadn't minded one bit letting Hacker know there wouldn't be any need for the security team to be assigned to Brennan at home since Booth was living there with her.

As the week progressed, it appeared that the added security measures were working. There were no more late-night disturbances at the lab, nor was anyone suspicious seen lurking on the grounds after dark. Of course there were no leads in who had vandalized everything in the first place since no fingerprints had been left and nothing had been stolen for them to trace. A lone shoe-print had been collected outside of a tree opposite Brennan's office window, but it was too generic to be of any use at this point in the investigation.

Brennan's nightmares came sporadically over the next few nights and seemed dependent on how stressful her day had been. Sometimes they were related to the Grave Digger, while others found her running from a faceless enemy. Each time, Booth was there to soothe and reassure her that she was safe and that he was alive.

On Friday afternoon Booth got Chris to cover his afternoon class so that they both could attended a donor's luncheon in West Virginia, where security measures were high and provided by local law enforcement. To Booth's relief, everything went as smoothly as it possibly could, prompting Brennan to declare he was being overprotective and should've stayed and taught his class. When pressed, however, she admitted she was glad he was there and even suggested they drove into DC and met Becca and Parker at the Diner for dinner once they were free to leave.

Parker filled his dad and Brennan in on all that had gone on in the past week and was almost literally bouncing up and down in his seat talking about the upcoming playoff game a week from tomorrow. Brennan offered to take Parker over to the counter for a piece of pie while Booth and Rebecca stayed at the table to discuss the arrangements for next weekend privately.

"Hey, what's all the giggling going on over here?" Booth demanded with a grin of his own, coming over to the counter when he and Rebecca had finished.

"Bones and I are having pie," Parker crowed.

"What?" Booth started between the two of them.

Brennan laughed, "It's true."

"All these years I offer you pie and you finally accept it from my _kid_?" Booth teased, ruffling Parker's hair. "What happened to not liking your fruit cooked?"

"There's no fruit in Boston Cream pie, silly," Parker shook his head.

"It's quite delicious," Brennan smirked, then held out a forkful. "Would you like some?"

He did and she fed it to him, then ordered him his own piece, claiming the rest of hers as her own. Rebecca hung back as the three of them finished their dessert and Booth explained what had been decided. Since school was out now, Booth would come pick Parker up after work on Friday, and he could stay in Virginia with his dad and Brennan until Sunday, though Rebecca would definitely be at the game and the barbeque afterward as well. Parker had been hoping to stay longer, but Booth promised he'd be able to once the break between Booth's summer and fall semesters came.

All too soon it was time for Parker to go home and get to bed, much to the boy's disappointment. He gave out long, tight hugs all around, and thanked Bones for eating "pie" with him. She laughed and hugged him back, telling him she would make sure to have some more at the barbeque, then asked him to compile a list of some of his other favorite foods and email her during the week so she could make sure they'd have them on hand when he came.

"You're gonna be a great mom, Bones," Booth said later as they curled up in the bed at her apartment.

She yawned, glad they'd decided not to make the long drive home, and smiled knowingly, "Not this month."

It took a minute to catch her drift and when he did, the tips of his ears pinked before he asked shyly, "Did you want to be?"

Brennan considered the question for a long moment before answering, "I'm not opposed to the idea in general, even though we are using appropriate countermeasures for the time being."

"Yeah," he wasn't sure what to say beyond that.

"It would seem at least for now that the timing is less than ideal given we've committed to specific jobs for the next year," she spoke pragmatically.

A part of Booth had to pinch himself mentally to convince himself they were really having this conversation, but he got up the courage to ask, "And after that?"

"After that," she smiled up at him, "I suppose it depends on a number of factors, chief among them being whether or not you wish to have another child out of wedlock."

He was quiet, letting the full impact of her words fall on him. If dating her felt like a miracle in and of itself, having a baby together would be beyond incredible, and _marriage:_ that had always seemed like just a pipe dream. Yet here she was, all but asking him if that's what he wanted.

"I wouldn't want to marry you just to have kids, you know?" he said finally. "And I won't if it's not what you really want."

"I-" she halted, staring at the ceiling, then started again, "For some time now I have been contemplating what it would be like to enter into a life-long monogamous covenant with another person. Obviously there are several factors to be considered beyond offspring, and it _is_ something of a calculated risk."

"But?" he prompted.

She turned so that they were face to face and opened her mouth to answer when both of the phones on the nightstand rang.


	21. Cutting to the Heart of Things

Chapter 21: Cutting to the Heart of Things

Brennan listened with half an ear as Dr. Albright, the project coordinator over in Maluku, asked her about the break-in and whether any of the research had been lost in the process, but for the most part was focused on whoever Booth was conversing with in the hall. He had immediately adopted a serious tone when he answered it, and she could hear the questioning in his vocal inflection, though she couldn't make out the words themselves.

Albright, meanwhile, pelted her with question after question of his own, barely giving her enough time to answer in monosyllabic grunts even if she'd wanted to be more precise. Finally, she heard Booth hang up, so she assured her colleague one last time that their data was safe and that appropriate measures were being taken to ensure that nothing of the sort would happen again.

When she was released from the overseas call, she set her phone aside and went in search of Booth.

"Who was that?" she asked, sinking down to the hall floor beside him and laying a hand on his forearm. "What's wrong?"

His expression was blank, his face ashen, but he managed, "Pops."

She feared the worst but a few seconds later he explained that it had been another heart-attack but not a fatal one. He was in the same hospital as he had been the last time and being treated by the same doctor.

"But that's a good thing," she encouraged Booth. "He'll be well taken care of there and by doctors who are familiar with his medical history."

"Yeah," Booth slowly mumbled. "This time."

Their eyes met and she knew he was thinking about how he would feel if the outcome was not as favorable as it appeared to be. It was one of those times she wished she was the type of person that could sugar-coat the truth for others, but knew she couldn't. Given Hank Booth's aversion to following his doctor's orders, along with the major bypass surgery he'd had the previous year, and now two heart-attacks, his prognosis was more than likely grim. Not that he would die that night, but its likelihood in the near future was high and she knew that Booth would take the loss hard.

"I'm sorry," was all she could come up with to say, and it sounded pathetic to her ears. Then she stood up suddenly and took his hands in an attempt to haul him to his feet, telling him softly but firmly, "You need to get up."

His eyes searched hers questioningly, so she continued, "We need to go to him. He'll want to see you and you want to see him, whether either one of you admits it or not. Sitting on the floor all night, wondering about what could've happened, or what might happen in the future accomplishes nothing."

One of his lips twitched up as he stood, his left hand remaining connected to her hand, while his right thumb and forefinger brushed her jaw, "When did you get so smart, Bones?"

"I had a good teacher," she smiled softly. Then tugged at his hand, "Let's go."

They made quick work of getting dressed and closing up her apartment before getting his SUV loaded and on the road. Though neither said anything, they both thought back to the last time they had received a call about Hank and subsequently hurtled through the night to the hospital. That had been the night after Heather Taffet's trial verdict; the night they had finally given in and decided to give _them_ a chance.

So many things had changed in the intervening months, and Booth was more thankful than ever that Brennan had gone all in with him, not only working things out so that she could stay in the States with him, but then moving in with him too. She hadn't run away and neither had he.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Booth waited a long moment, just mentally trying to prepare himself for whatever awaited them. A light touch broke his reverie and he turned toward her. Brennan's eyes were full of concern for him and she brought her hands up on either side of his face and lowered him gently onto her lips for a kiss that spoke of her love and support without needing any words.

Nodding once they pulled back, he unbuckled and got out, wrapping an arm around her waist as soon as she was close enough, and they made their way into the ER.

This time when they went up to the admissions' desk Brennan didn't wait for Booth to speak, but calmly told the nurse on duty who they were there for, and who the attending physician was. For his part, Booth pulled out his ID without being asked, and tried to cling as tightly as he could to Brennan without it being obvious; thankful that she was the one doing all of the talking since the lump that had risen into his throat as they passed through the sliding doors of the ER hadn't gone away.

They were informed that Hank had already been transferred to a room in the main hospital and were told how to find the cardiac wing. Brennan thanked the nurse sincerely for her help, then subtly urged Booth in that direction. Neither one of them said anything as they strode through the barren corridors, passing only the occasional nurse or doctor as they went.

Again, it was Brennan who went up to the nurse on duty in the cardiac wing and explained their situation, asking if Dr. Lehman was still present, or if he'd gone home for the night. She released a small breath when she found out he was still there and was nearly done with his rounds for the night. Apparently, he'd left word at the desk to be paged as soon as the couple arrived, and Brennan was told he would be out to see them in just a moment.

The entire time Brennan was talking with the nurse, Booth stood beside her, too emotional now to trust himself to say anything. A few of the room doors were cracked open, giving him a glimpse of the various machines the patients in this ward were hooked up to. He strained to catch what room number Pops was in, but the chart was just beyond his line of sight, and the opportunity passed when they were instructed to sit and wait for the doctor.

In Booth's vast experience with hospitals and doctors it was never a good sign when you weren't just allowed to go right back and see whoever you were there for, and all he could picture was Pops back in one of those rooms, all alone, and hooked up to one of those godforsaken machines.

"Mr. and Mrs. Booth," Dr. Lehman materialized out of nowhere and extended his hand. "I can't say that I'm happy you have to be here again, but I am pleased to see you."

"How is Hank?" Brennan cut right to the chase, not caring if they ever got around to correcting the doctor's erroneous opinion that she and Booth were married. It hadn't mattered the last time and it didn't matter now.

"He's sleeping," the doctor smiled to set them at ease.

"Sedated?" Brennan wanted to know.

The doctor shook his head, "Just worn out. He's had a long day."

Lehman went on to explain the type of heart-attack Pops had had and indeed it was a little bit more serious than the last time, but the doctor was not convinced it had been life-threatening. He did, however, want to keep Hank in the hospital for a few days and run some more extensive tests to get a clearer picture of what his overall heart health was.

After allowing Brennan to peruse Hank's chart and assuring them once again that he was not at death's door, the couple was finally persuaded to go home and rest for the night, though Booth promised they would be back first thing in the morning. It was close to three when a bleary-eyed Booth found a space on their street and the two of them trudged in the townhouse, both thankful that they only lived fifteen minutes from the hospital, and that neither one of them had any work responsibilities over the weekend.

The sun was well on it's way through the sky by the time either one of them woke up the next morning and Booth was shocked to realize it was already ten o'clock. They hurried through breakfast and were in Hank's room an hour later. The older man was slightly pale and visibly weaker than he had been at Parker's game just the other week, but he was in good spirits and seemed to be cheered by the presence of his visitors.

Most of what Hank wanted to talk about revolved around Jared and Padme's upcoming wedding. After a few scheduling snags, the wedding had finally been set for the end of July, which he reminded them was only three weeks away. Hank was also adamant that he would be healthy enough to go to Parker's baseball game in a week, and Brennan assured him that even if his doctor felt he wasn't, they would come pick him up for the barbeque afterward.

"So has he offered to make an honest woman of you yet?" Hank asked Brennan bluntly.

She looked over at Booth, who's face flamed red and gave a playful smile, "We're in negotiations, yes."

"What's there to negotiate?" Hank shrugged. "You either want to or you don't. Doesn't take any of those fancy doctor papers on your wall to figure that out."

"Pops," Booth protested, not wanting to scare Brennan off.

"I'm serious," he gave Brennan an apologetic look. "When you get to be by age you'll see that there's no use in beating around the bush." Hank looked back at Booth, "Shrimp, can you give us a minute alone?"

Booth realized he didn't really have a choice when Brennan nodded that she'd been fine and all but shooed him out with a wave of her chin. "I'm gonna go see if I can scrounge up some pudding," he said lamely, and excused himself with a wave.

In an uncomfortable vinyl chair beside Hank's hospital bed, Brennan tilted her head and prepared herself for whatever kindly advice the man was about to impart. Since their first meeting over a year ago, she'd come to deeply respect him, finding quickly that it was he who had passed down some of Booth's more admirable character traits, and even some of his mannerisms.

It was a classic Booth charm smile that met her eyes now, one meant not so much to persuade as to set at ease, "That boy of mine loves you."

She nodded, secure in her knowledge of that fact, "I love him as well."

"He's a good man," Hank went on. "Flawed in parts, but a good man nonetheless, and there's something you need to know about him."

Brennan looked from Hand to the door where Booth had left, then back again, "If this is something known only within your family, perhaps you shouldn't divulge it. Booth is a very private person."

"Sweetheart," the old man chuckled, "aside from the fact that you've been family for years now, this is something you need to know. Something he'll never tell you on his own, but he should. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," the answer sprung from her lips, not giving her mind a chance to dwell on the question. Never mind that the man in front of her was more of a grandparent to her than any of her biological grandparents had been, Hank was just like her own Booth in that she trusted him implicitly.

"What Seeley wants in this world more than anything else is a family," he held out a hand to stave off any comments on her part, even though she wasn't about to interrupt him. "I'm sure he's told you there's more than one kind of family, and maybe even assured you he'll be perfectly happy with whatever kind of family you're willing to give him?"

She nodded her head when he realized he was waiting for her answer, "He has."

"It's bull," Hank confided in her softly but earnestly. "Not that he's deliberately lying to you, mind you, but his own family that he loved so much disintegrated in front of his eyes when he was just a little boy. I've watched him now for years try to convince himself that he doesn't need that kind of nuclear family to be a whole person; that he should just be willing to settle for whatever anybody's willing to give him.

"He settled for what we could give him after that mess with his dad," Hank shook his head sadly. "He settled for the Army after his shoulder blew out during college, hell, he's still settling for whatever BS line that Stinson girl feeds him when it comes to his own son!"

He dragged in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but still visibly emotional. It was several minutes before he spoke again, "Now, I know there are things in your past too, and I know you're scared when it comes to marriage, but what I need you to understand is that Seeley will settle for whatever arrangement you offer. He'll make the best of it and won't ever tell you otherwise.

"But inside," Hank tapped his chest, ignoring the wires and everything else, "he'll still be that little boy who just wants to be part of a real family again; be the husband and father he's never been allowed to be before. So please, if that's something you decide you can't give him: don't make him settle again. But if it is- and I have a feeling it is even if you're not quite sure yet- than marry him. Soon. Before you two lose any more time than you already have."


	22. Just Desserts

Chapter 22: Just Desserts

The rest of the weekend was spent mostly at the hospital, playing dominoes with Hank, and leaving only to grab something to eat. Jared and Padme came down late Saturday evening and stayed overnight with Booth and Brennan. Hank complained that the four young people should be out having fun of their own instead of huddled around his bed, even though it appeared to Brennan that he understood why his grandsons wished to stay close to him. Hank also seemed touched by the flowers and wishes for a speedy recovery that came from Cam and Sweets, not to mention the selection of fresh fruit from Clark Edison.

On Sunday afternoon, Brennan found herself leaning up against one of the walls opposite Hank's bed, observing the scene playing out in front of her. Rebecca had brought Parker by for a short visit and the four Booth boys were chatting back and forth about the Phillies baseball team that they all apparently rooted for, and whether or not they felt their team would fare well after the All-Star break. This break, she determined after listening carefully for context clues, was an exhibition of sorts for the most talented players and served as a de facto half-way point in the baseball season.

"They love their sports," Rebecca said casually as she and Padme joined Temperance in the far corner.

"Tell me about it," Padme rolled her eyes. "I think if Jared had his way, we'd have season tickets for every major sporting event in the DC Area."

"Seeley takes Parker to at least one game every summer," Rebecca nodded. "They haven't gotten to one yet this year, but I'm sure that won't last long. Especially once the Phillies are in town."

"I actually don't mind going to the games," Padme shrugged, "they're pretty fun. Watching on TV's kinda boring and I can do without the endless hours of SportsCenter, but I like taking in a game in person."

Brennan made a mental note to check with her publicist about procuring tickets for all of them to go, as she was regularly offered sports tickets from her publishing company, but said, "Booth rarely misses a game on television now that our subscription includes games from the Philadelphia area."

"Oh yeah," Rebecca nodded, "Parker came home raving about it last time he stayed over since all we get are the Nats' and Orioles' games."

"Jared was drooling last night too," Padme put in. "And you figure the fall isn't even here yet."

Rebecca seemed to understand that statement, but Brennan didn't and asked for clarification.

"Fall's when all of the major sports collide," Rebecca explained. "Baseball heats up with the playoffs, hockey starts, and football..."

"Ugh, yes, football," Padme nodded, turning to Brennan. "We all turn into Sunday widows once football season starts."

Rebecca was in full agreement, "Parker and Drew are glued to the screen from morning 'til night. I don't even bother with big meals on Sundays anymore. Do Seel and Jared still go at it?"

"Big time!" Padme sighed, then asked Brennan, "Have you had to watch a game with both of them yet?"

She shook her head, "I do know Booth is a very ardent supporter of the Steelers, however."

"Yup," Padme nodded, "and Jared's a die-hard Eagles' fan. And even though it would take a small miracle for both teams to ever meet in the Super Bowl, they still fight over who's the better team. Loudly. And they're both as stubborn as mules. Doesn't even matter if two completely different teams are playing on the screen they still find a reason to fight."

"I believe they enjoy arguing with one another," Brennan agreed, unsure if she'd ever been to a family gathering where the two brothers didn't bicker about something, inane or otherwise.

"I'm so glad Parker's an only kid," Rebecca commented. "The last thing I need is to spend all my time policing fights."

"You have no desire to procreate in multiples?" the anthropologist questioned, always curious as to other women's views on the topic.

Rebecca laughed, familiar enough with Brennan's way of questioning not to be offended, "I didn't even want one. Don't get me wrong, I love Parker and wouldn't trade him for anything, but one's more than enough."

As the two other women began discussing the pros and cons of raising an only child, Brennan thought about her own position on the topic. Over the past five years her views on becoming a parent had shifted dramatically, thanks in part to being exposed to Parker, as well as her nieces, on a regular basis.

It had been rewarding for her to discover that children enjoyed learning things from her, so much so that last year she'd felt it would be akin to squandering her knowledge for her _not_ to have a progeny of her own. If she were to be honest with herself she would admit that the only viable candidate to be the father of her child had been Booth, so in the advent of his brain tumor and subsequent coma, she'd laid that aspiration aside and focused on helping him recover.

A few times now since they'd moved in together, the topic of children had come up and it seemed neither one of them objected to the idea. The thought occurred to her that if she and Booth _were_ to have a child, their offspring would automatically have an older brother in Parker regardless of how many other children they decided to have. It also struck her that having a child with Booth would connect her with every person in the room; make her a part of their family in the truest sense of the word.

The defense mechanism that always sprang up to remind her how quickly family could be lost and how painful it felt when it was gone, now found itself at war with the emerging part of her that, like Booth, wanted to take that risk and experience the love regardless of the consequences. It was also not lost on her that should she choose to honor Hank's desires, it would mean separating herself from Booth if she decided she couldn't marry him. She wasn't altogether certain she could do that without causing both of them a great deal of pain; . That excruciating night outside of the Hoover was still somewhat fresh in her mind. Whatever she decided upon, she fully realized that it would require careful thought beforehand.

"Earth to Bones," an all-too-familiar voice sounded as his hand came to rest gently on her shoulder. "You ready to go?"

It was then that she looked around and realized that the room had emptied of all but the two of them, Hank, and a nurse who was admonishing the older Booth that it was time for him to rest.

"Everyone's heading back to our place for dinner before they go home, so we should hit the road," Booth explained.

She nodded in understanding, and went over to Hank's bed to tell him goodbye. Booth's eyes widened in surprise and his heart swelled with love for her as she waited patiently for the nurse to leave before stretching her arms wide and enfolding his grandfather in an unabashed hug.

"Thank you," Brennan murmured into Hank's ear.

He kissed her roughly on the cheek, "I love you, Sweetheart, now go keep that boy of mine in line."

"I will attempt to do so," she smiled stepping back and looking between the two men. "Though it's more difficult than it sounds."

"Get outta here," Booth shoved her playfully toward the door as he leaned in for his own hug. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on ya, Pops."

**B&B&B&B&B**

The small townhouse was bustling with activity when Booth and Brennan arrived home laden with enough subs, chips, and soda to feed a small army. Thanks to Padme and Rebecca, the table was already lined with paper cups and plates, and the right number of chairs that had been gathered from various rooms so that they could all sit around it.

Booth bowed his head, leading them in a quick prayer of thanks for the food and for Pops' health, then loaded up his plate with a witty crack designed to take their minds off of the sadness for a while. Conversation soon buzzed around, with the occasional reminder from the women to their boys to not talk while eating. Parker cheered when Brennan announced there were hot fudge sundaes for dessert and he was more than happy to help dish them out.

"Hey, Seels, I almost forgot. I got you something special," Jared grinned mischievously as he finished his sundae, going over to his overnight bag and pulling out a manila envelope.

"Money for bailing your sorry butt outta the sling for thirty years?" Booth guessed, shaking and sniffing it as if that would tell him something.

"I pulled your sorry butt out of that ship, don't forget," Jared teased back. "Lost a little thing called my job."

"Guys, I'm ten, you can say 'ass' around me now," Parker cut in, rolling his eyes.

"No we can't!" Booth said, just as Rebecca said, "No they can't!"

Booth went back to working prying the envelope carefully open, "What _is_ this thing?"

It was a folder- that much was clear to everyone- and upon opening the folder, he found a picture of Brennan along with a thin stack of typed pages. Booth leafed through them, scanning the pages and grunting, "You're kidding me right?"

"Hey," Jared leaned back in his seat with a smug look, "I'm just looking out for my big brother."

"You ran a background check on Bones?" Booth said incredulously.

While he sounded upset the three women chortled and tried to keep their composure straight as the brothers went at each other.

"She's a pretty scary lady," Jared threw up his hands in defense. "All those mad martial arts skills and the marksmanship thing, not to mention her profession alone has probably taught her how to kill a guy and make him unrecognizable."

"Back still sore from that shove she gave you off the stool?" Booth rebutted.

Jared wasn't fazed, "Did you see all of those assault charges? She was even charged with a felony by the good ol' FB of I."

"I was the arresting officer on that one, moron," Booth mocked. "Pretty sure she's never gonna let me forget that one."

"No, she isn't," Brennan confirmed with her own smirk.

"Still," Jared went on, "she's a hunter too. Licenses in three states-"

"Four," Booth and Brennan corrected him simultaneously.

"Whatever." Jared shrugged, "Just saying, you should probably dump her before she dumps your loser body in a ditch somewhere."

Booth's knuckles were white, his face was three shades of red, but when he growled at Jared angrily, the three women could stand it no more and burst out laughing.

"This is _not_ funny," Booth insisted, especially when Parker started laughing because the adults were.

"Actually, it kinda is," Jared smirked.

"Shut up," Booth glared at his brother, then turned to his girlfriend, "Et tu, Bones?"

"Booth," she snorted, "how many of my ex-boyfriends have you run background checks on?"

"And mine?" Rebecca piped up.

"He ran one on me," Padme smiled, winking at Jared.

"Turnabout's fair play, big brother," the younger Booth was quite pleased with himself.

"Dad, do you check out my girlfriends too?" Parker wanted to know.

"You," Booth pointed at Jared, "are dead, and you," he leveled a finger at Parker, "better not have any girlfriends 'til you're at least twenty. And as for _you-_" he stood up and walked over to Brennan, hauling her to her feet.

"Yes?" she freed her hands from his, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes daring him to challenge her.

"Looks like you're one helluva woman," he smiled, waving her file under her chin. "Should I be worried?"

She smiled, wiping a bit of fudge off of his lips with her thumb and licked it off as she nodded, "Always."


	23. Just Shoot Me

Chapter 23: Just Shoot Me

The week got off to a bad start Monday morning when they both forgot to set the alarm and didn't get much better as it progressed. Booth's first round of students were gone and replaced by two classes that were much younger and much more apathetic. It also didn't help that Booth was stuck back in the classroom, making him feel confined compared to the week out in the simulated "field" that he'd just finished.

On Brennan's end, the find that they thought would be a groundbreaking one was not according to the results that finally came back. Brennan had dealt with that type of disappointment plenty of times in her career, however, being the local project coordinator meant that she had to deal with the financial end of things as well. Failure of any kind didn't look good to current donors, and more importantly the lack of any significant finds made if difficult to attract others.

"I'm a scientist, not a salesperson," she complained wearily to Booth as they sat in her office Wednesday night after she'd been through a day full of long meetings.

He looked up from his carton of mee krob and smiled sympathetically, "Yeah, well, if you ask the kids I have this week, I'm not much of a teacher. A couple of them even fell asleep during class the other day; not that Chris and I didn't have fun scaring the crap out of them to wake 'em up, but still, not the best thing for a guy's ego, you know?"

"Dr. Albright is concerned and questioning my efficiency as a leader," she sounded miffed, "and he's made several allusions to my interpersonal skills being sub-par as well."

Booth snorted, finding it hard to believe that anyone would accuse his partner of being inefficient, then looked up at her. "You know he probably has people breathing down his neck on his end and is just making sure he leaves no stone unturned."

She nodded, then frowned, "I hate being a stone."

"Cycle of bureaucracy," Booth quipped as he tossed the empty carton in the trash can.

It went in easily and he grinned up at Brennan only to find her with a deep furrow across her brow as she stared blankly at the computer screen in front of her. Standing silently from his seat on the couch, he crossed the room to her desk and came up behind her, laying a hand on each of her shoulders and kneading the tense muscles he found there.

"So is this where you decide you need to pack your bags and head for home?" he joked as she began to slowly relax under his tender ministrations.

She propped her elbows up on the desktop and let her head droop down, "I don't know."

"Aw, you don't mean that, Bones," he laid a light kiss on the exposed part of her neck. "Sure, things aren't going the greatest right now, but they'll pick up again, you'll see."

"Your optimism," he could hear the sad smile in her voice, "while endearing, isn't grounded in the facts, and the fact remains that after a full month of analyzing the remains found in Maluku, they are no more or less remarkable than any other human remains that date to the same time period."

"Well, it's not like they've been there for the whole year and found nothing," Booth pointed out. "Isn't time a big factor in these things?"

"Yes," she acknowledged, "however potential donors don't always take that into consideration, and the fact that the lab here was broken into does not engender confidence."

"Bones," he smiled, turning her around and hauling her to her feet, "aren't you the one who's always saying we shouldn't jump to conclusions?" She nodded and he smiled, "Okay, so let's not _conclude_ that the project is going to be shut down just because you had _one_ crappy week."

Their eyes met, allowing him to catch the infinitesimal nod that followed, and he pulled her into his embrace for a quick hug, before moving to grab her shoulder bag from its hook and help her load it up. She started to protest, then conceded that she wasn't going to get any work done with the mood she was in currently.

When they got home, Booth ordered her upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes while he disappeared into the kitchen. He was still there, humming away with the microwave whirring as she entered from behind.

"Nice look," he winked, giving her a quick kiss and brushing a finger over where his name was on the old FBI academy t-shirt she'd chosen, admiring her cutoffs too as she moved around him to the fridge and peered in.

"Do you want a beer?" she her voice floated out from behind the fridge door, completely oblivious to the miles of leg she was displaying in the process.

"Uh, sure," he swore at himself silently as his voice cracked like a pimply-faced teenager and he thanked all the saints he could think of when the microwave beeped a second later.

He pointedly ignored what she was doing as he pulled the treat he'd made out and got the rest of it ready while she opened the beers and got settled. Planting two spoons in the creation he turned toward the small table and set it down in front of her with a flourish.

"Behold, the Seeley Booth Special," he announced dramatically, waving a hand over the dish.

The scent of warm devil's food cake mixed with molten caramel and hot fudge made Brennan's nostrils flare with delight as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she reopened them, a spoon hovered at her lips, the vanilla ice cream dripping with a soft splash to the table below as Booth waited patiently. Her lips parted for him and again she closed her eyes when the spoon entered her mouth, bringing a delicious contrast of hot and cold with it.

On the other side of the table Booth was enjoying the view, though he squirmed in his seat when she let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. This might not've been the brightest of ideas.

"It's delicious," she gave him a small smile as she opened her eyes. "Would you like me to reciprocate?"

At that minute he kinda wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole but his head nodded before could tell it not to, and she gently tugged the spoon from his fingers. The bite she got for him was far smaller than any he would've gotten for himself, but the mode of transport was captivating enough that he could care less; especially when her lips parted right along with his.

"Like it?" she asked so unassumingly it turned him on even more. Something on his face must've given him away, though, because her eyes widened and the next thing he knew she was asking, "Booth, are you aroused?"

The word in and of itself almost killed him, but he managed a nod and an unintelligible grunt.

Her chin moved to one side as she considered this, then concluded, "I suppose your sexual frustration is because I'm currently menstr-"

The start of a word that could spoil the mood faster than a cold shower launched Booth into action and onto her lips faster than either on thought possible. Once she caught on, she matched his fervor, but when she started taking it to the next level, his eased back, stroking her hair gently, content enough to rest his forehead on hers and catch his breath.

"The ice cream's melting," she pointed out in a slightly playful tone.

"Maybe we'd better use two spoons for right now," he smiled back at her.

"I concur," she nodded, reaching up on her tiptoes one last time to kiss him chastely on the cheek.

There was a sort of awkward silence as they sat back down and began working on the dessert from both sides, neither sure what to say or do otherwise. Booth picked up his beer and took a swig, a low chuckle escaping him when he set it down and found she'd been doing the exact same thing.

"Great minds...," he smiled, tilting the neck of the bottle for her to toast with him.

She clinked hers against his with a soft smile of her own and the tension between them dropped to almost nothing. They eased slowly back into a normal conversation and by the time the bowl was empty, it was as if nothing had happened.

Until she stood up. Still in her cutoffs.

"Looking that hot all the time should be illegal," Booth groused as he busied himself with whatever would keep his eyes off of her legs the longest.

"I do not look 'hot' as you call it, 'all of the time,'" she insisted, snapping the kitchen light off decisively.

"Hate to break it to you, Babe," he smirked, ushering her up the stairs, "but you are. And that's not a bad thing."

"Except right now," she pointed out as they walked into the bedroom.

"Nah," he denied, loosening the top buttons and pulling his shirt off over his head.

"Liar," her eyes moved to his midsection as his dress pants fell to the floor swiftly.

"That's also not fair," he grumbled good-naturedly, thankful that she was heading into the bathroom.

"Do you really find me attractive right now?" she asked somewhat timidly as he flicked off the bedside lamp and settled down beside her.

"Definitely," he gathered her into his arms. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm bloated, irritable, and feel _icky_," she said for lack of a better word.

"Well, I still love you when you're '_icky,'"_ he grinned, kissing her hair. "And everyone's allowed to be a crab once in a while. It doesn't detract from your hotness one bit for me." She said nothing, but moved further into his embrace. "Hey, Bones," he said softly, "you okay?"

Her shoulders shrugged up and down against his chest, but still she said nothing.

"Come here," he beckoned, pulling at her shoulder. "Look at me." He waited until she turned toward him to continue, "I don't know what other guys have or haven't told you in the past, but you are one classy, beautiful woman, Bones, no matter how you might be feeling and if I don't tell you that enough for you to believe me when I say it, I'm sorry, okay?"

She nodded her head, then leaned into his chest to mask her own insecurities. So many more things he wanted to say flooded his mind but he said nothing, sensing she wasn't quite ready for that yet, and instead he opted to hold her close, whispering one last assurance of his love in her ear before allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

To Brennan's relief, Booth didn't pursue the topic any further the next morning and instead focused on the fact that they would once again be working as partners later that afternoon. She could tell he was not only excited to do the demonstration with her again, but also to get out of the confines of the instructional range and into the more open training course.

On her end, it was a relief as her workday began with nearly as much tension as she had left it with the night before, to know that she was leaving at noon. With great focus, she determined that she would finish enough of her work that she would not have to return once she left. Accomplishing that meant locking herself in her office for several hours, but it was worth it when she finally emerged free of all but the slightest amount of paperwork, which could be completed at home.

An hour later she was standing beside Booth, listening to him give the same instructions he'd given the week before. It was easy to see why he'd been so cross with his current class of students as it was obvious they weren't granting him nearly the respect he deserved. The field was cleared as the students went up to the observational platform and she and Booth took their positions at the top of the course.

Booth blew his whistle and the exercise began. She had to quash the thrill of excitement that always came when she knew an audience was watching, wanting to prove to Booth's students that there was a reason the pair had earned a reputation as the best in their field. Carefully, they picked their way through the maze of buildings, slowly but steadily boxing Agent Miller in, though she couldn't help but give a triumphal grin as they secured the last remaining exit point.

The grin wasn't lost on Booth, who had been watching his partner carefully since they'd met for lunch to make sure she was ready for this after the emotional roller coaster they'd been on last night, but she'd seemed fine then, and she was certainly on fire now. He grinned back at her as they held their position steady, enjoying the effortless communication that flowed between them without using words.

He heard the shots fire a split second before he could warn her, but knew instantly that something was off. The acrid scent of gunpowder that should _not _be coming from Miller's weapon registered and his whistle was in his mouth, blowing as loud as he could, just as the bullet found its mark and flung Brennan against the wall before dropping her to the ground like a rag doll with a sickening thud.


	24. All Fall Down

Chapter 24: All Fall Down

She knew from the minute of impact that the bullet had not been a rubber one and the force of it had been strong enough to send her reeling backward and into the wall. There was a crunching sound as her parietal and occipital bones made contact with the hard surface, then a sharp pain as her knees collapsed into the pavement, the rest of her body crumpling quickly afterward. Blackness threatened to envelop her but she refused to give way to it.

A part of her was aware of some sort of commotion being made around her, but her mind was far too murky to decipher what it was. It felt as if her heart were pounding in her head, even as her brain registered pain in other areas of her body as well. She tasted something metallic in her mouth and realized she'd bitten her tongue hard somewhere along the way, though that paled in comparison to the pain at the back of her head and in her knees.

"Bones," a voice pierced through her mental fog, one she was sure she was supposed to know. "Bones!"

Another wave of pain flooded her as strong hands took her shoulders, gently shaking her, and her eyelids fluttered open if only to see who her tormentor was.

"Booth," the word was slightly slurred and her voice weak but she got it out and was immediately rewarded with a small smile.

"Hey, it's okay," he assured her. "I got you, Babe, and the ambulance will be here soon."

She tried to sit up, but felt only more pain and the rushing noise in her head wasn't getting any softer. The position she'd fallen into, though, was getting uncomfortable, and she wanted to sit up, so she tried again.

"Whoa there, Bones, where do you think you're going?" Booth asked, steadying her before she tipped over.

She gritted her teeth to move a third time, and he realized what she was trying to do and this time offered his assistance. Her world was still a blurry haze of pain, but he managed to help her roll over without her passing out, and from there she could make herself sit up.

"Okay," Booth said as she tried to regain her center of balance, "no more moving, Bones. The EMTs are on their way and I'm pretty sure they'll yell at me if I let you move any more."

"I'm fine," she told him, pleased that her voice sounded merely winded. Her eyes focused on him for the first time, "You're bleeding."

"Not me, Bones," he shook his head, making her feel slightly queasy.

Her hand flew to the back of her head as quickly as she could get it there, ignoring her body's protests to stop, and found a wet, sticky mess of matted hair. By this time she could hear the ambulance approaching, the sirens doing nothing for her growing headache.

The vehicle stopped and she heard doors slam and footsteps approach. Voices floated over her head as Booth informed the medics what had happened, and while she recognized a few medical terms here and there, for the most part she still couldn't concentrate long enough to hear everything. Before she realized what was happening, she was being maneuvered onto a backboard, her head secured in a neck brace while her limbs were loosely tied down.

A cry of pain escaped her as she was hoisted up onto the gurney and she could hear Booth admonishing them harshly even as his fingers found hers and held on. Wincing and trying not to grunt as the gurney bounced along, she clung to him like an anchor, thankful for his steady, calm voice that belied the emotional turmoil he was no doubt experiencing.

"I'll be right behind you, Bones," he promised as the gurney came to a stop beside the waiting ambulance. The medics had taken a respectful step back at Booth's request and he had leaned over far enough for her to see his face.

"Come?" she hated the tears that she couldn't stop and how needy her voice sounded, but she also didn't want to be separated from him.

"I can't," he shook his head, gently wiping away her tears. "They're not gonna let me, but I'll be right behind you, I promise, Temperance."

"Don't call me, Temperance," she croaked with a wry smile.

"Stubborn woman," he chuckled, leaning in to kiss her cheek and whisper softly, "I'll see you soon, Bones. I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered back, her heart clenching as he stepped back and out of her restricted line of sight.

They loaded her up as gently as possible, but the ambulance itself had no suspension. Fortunately, the hospital wasn't far and they got her inside with no major jolts. By the time her IV was inserted, and she'd answered as many of the nurse's evaluation questions as she could, and the medicine started flowing, she felt physically and emotionally drained and finally succumbed to sleep.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Veers and his investigative unit were just arriving at the scene when Booth left, but he didn't even bother to stop and give a statement, figuring if the man wanted it bad enough, he'd come and get it. A part of him took comfort in the fact that she had been her strong, stubborn self right up to when they'd loaded her up and taken her away, but the other part knew she'd hit her head awful hard and he had a decent amount of her blood on his hands to prove it.

The ER parking lot was barren when he pulled in and he wasted no time jogging to the building and finding the front desk.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, my partner, Temperance Brennan, was just brought in," he told the receptionist.

She snapped her gum, her fingers flying over the keyboard at a mile a minuted, even though she was looking right at him, "You family?"

Booth shook his head and knew immediately he was about to be dismissed to the waiting area for the time being. Sure enough, the girl chucked a thumb at the chairs and said he needed to wait until a family member arrived. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was talk to Max Keenan knowing anything shy of everything, so he slumped down in a chair until he could figure out what to do next.

Having plenty of time on his hands didn't prove to be a good thing, since he now had ample opportunity to go over everything that had happened in his mind. Everything had been going so smoothly up until the last few minutes when the live round, rather than the rubber ones they'd been using, was shot instead, and she'd flown into the brick wall.

Miller had realized what had happened as soon as the shot fired and seemed just as shocked as Booth was. The other man had come rushing out of his hiding place and was deathly pale until they realized that the bullet had been absorbed by the flack jacket and the main source of Brennan's injuries was the wall. He had apologized to Booth over and over again, and had also been the one to call 911 and herd the class away from the scene.

"Excuse me," a nurse came out to the lobby, "are you Seeley Booth?"

"Yes," he was on his feet, flashing his badge as quick as he could. "How is she?"

"Sleeping," the kind woman smiled. "Would you like to come back?"

"I'm not family," he said dully, even though he ached to see her.

"Maybe not," she shrugged, "but if you're Seeley Booth, than she has you listed as medical proxy so you can feel free to see her." She smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry if you've had to wait long but our network was down when you came in so we just got her information."

Booth didn't need to be told twice, following the nurse from the lobby and through the double wooden doors. The back of the ER was as empty as the front, but still all of the beds and medical equipment unnerved him as they filed past them and back to a more private room.

"Here you are, Mr. Booth," the nurse said. "Like I said, she's sleeping right now, but if you need me, just call. The doctor should be around soon to fill you in on everything."

He barely remembered to thank her as he opened the door quietly and went in.


	25. It's a Hard Knock Life

Chapter 25: It's a Hard Knock Life

Brennan hovered somewhere between sleep and consciousness, aware of each time a nurse came in to check on her vitals and each time they left. So when someone came in and didn't leave, she was aware of that as well and opened her eyes, making the careful effort to turn her aching head and see who it was.

His wide shoulders were slumped as he sprawled out on the chair beside her bed, hands cradling his head, and she couldn't be sure if he was sleeping or not. Orange light filtered through the blinds as the sun set and it seemed to cast a dark shadow over him, making him look even more dejected.

"Booth," his name escaped her lips in a raspy whisper too low to be heard, so she licked them and swallowed a few times before trying again. "Booth!"

"Bones!" his head shot up, a wide grin splitting his face as he leapt to his feet and bent over her.

"Hi," her voice was a little stronger, though.

"Do you know what day it is?" he asked anxiously. "And who I am? And how you got hurt? And-"

He stopped when she reached out with the hand that was not attached to an IV and touched him, "It's Thursday. You are Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth. I was injured when a live round struck my flack jacket, propelling me into a wall." She paused, looking straight into his eyes, "And _none_ of this is your fault."

His adam's apple bobbed up and down with emotion, eyes becoming slightly watery, his hand reaching out to grasp hers, "I'm your partner, Bones- during the exercise, and in our personal life. It's my job to protect you and I didn't."

"Did you load that live round in with the others?" she asked earnestly, still keeping her hand within his.

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "I would never- I could never-" He stopped, unable to complete the sentiment.

"I know," she soothed and squeezed his hand tightly. "I know. You could never do such a thing and _that_ is why it isn't _your_ fault. There wasn't anything you could've done differently unless you had prior knowledge of the sabotage."

He hooked the chair with his foot and dragged it closer to the bed so that he could maintain contact with her and sat down with a loud, long sigh, "This isn't good, Babe. Whoever's behind all this has a long arm to be able to pull everything off."

"You believe this was the work of the same person or persons who broke into my lab?"

"It's not too much of a long shot," he grimaced. "And they've gotta be keeping a pretty close eye on us too."

Brennan was just about to agree when the doctor came in with the results from the CT scan they'd done when she was admitted. As she suspected, there was a thin fracture along her occipital bone from where the kinetic energy of the bullet had pushed her back hard into the wall that she'd been only inches away from. She was more relieved, however, when he allowed her to examine the results for herself, and she found that no significant damage had been done and there was no visible inter-cranial bleeding.

"What about the bullet?" Booth wanted to know. "Anything serious from where it hit?"

"You're FBI?" the doctor asked, eying the academy t-shirt Booth was wearing. Booth nodded and the man went on, "Then as you probably know flack jackets act as more of an absorber than anything. They catch the bullet and spread its impact out so that it can't pierce through to the body, but they still pack a punch.

"In Dr. Brennan's case, the bullet hit her abdomen, but she was far enough away from the shooter and had a very good vest on. There were no bones to potentially break where she was hit and the ultrasounds we've performed suggest there is no abnormal bleeding," he turned to Brennan. "You will have a nasty bruise for a while."

Booth saw Brennan's eyes flick down to her stomach as she nodded, then he asked, "And her head wound?"

"All stitched up," the doctor assured him, "and they're the dissolving kind so she won't need to come back in."

"I'm fine, Booth," she sought to assure him. "Bruised and sore, but fine." She turned to the doctor, "Will you be discharging me soon?"

"Will he be staying with you tonight?" the doctor questioned her.

"Agent Booth and I live together, so yes," she affirmed.

"Good," he gave a curt nod before addressing Booth once more. "She does have a slight concussion, so just keep an eye out for any of the warning signs on the sheet we'll send home with you. Sleeping isn't a problem, but we do want to know about any nausea or vomiting. I'd also advise against going back to work and any other strenuous activities."

"I'm not a child," Brennan spoke up, displeased with how the man was talking to Booth as if she wasn't sitting right there listening to him.

"Maybe not," the man gave a rueful grin, "but you strike me as the stubborn type the way you're itching to get out of that bed and go home, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to see you again. Especially for something that you could've easily prevented by giving your body enough time to heal itself. I'm releasing you because you have someone to help you but I need to know you will accept that help and not push yourself."

A rush of air escaped her lips, but she nodded and Booth promised the doctor he'd take good care of her.

"Would you pass me my clothes, Booth?" she asked as soon as the doctor was out of the room. "They're in a paper bag in that small closet."

"A little antsy there, Bones?" he teased, retrieving the bag.

She gave him a small smile that told him antsy didn't even start to cover it and began to peel off her hospital gown. Unfortunately, she realized she was still hooked up to the IV.

"Whoa, hey, what do you think you're doing, Bones?" he asked as she started peeling back the medical tape on her hand.

"It's not as if I haven't taken an IV out before, Booth," she rolled her eyes as she pulled the needle free and casually hung the line over the side of the bed. "I _am _a doctor."

She still didn't have a shirt on, which was driving him to distraction but managed to stutter, "Well- um- I'm your medical proxy, and hey, while we're on that topic, when did that happen?"

"I signed the paperwork about a month after you were shot," she informed him, wincing a little as she tried refastening her bra.

"Really?" he took pity on her and turned her around so that he could help. "Why then?"

"When you were shot," she said over her shoulder, "one of the most frustrating things was that I wasn't legally allowed to be updated on your condition no matter how much I begged and cajoled. Privacy acts in the medical realm are taken very seriously. By making you my medical proxy I assured that you would not be treated in the same manner I was should something happen to me. You could be granted access to my room as well as my medical file."

"Okay," he nodded, very touched that she wanted to take care of him even back then. "That's a pretty big responsibility to hand over, you know? Especially if you were hurt badly enough."

"There's no one I trust to make the proper medical decisions for me in my stead, Booth," she finished dressing and laid a hand on his arm. "I have the utmost faith that you would do whatever you felt was in my best interests, and should something arise that you were unfamiliar with, you would consult Cam as to the proper course of action."

"Faith, huh?" he guided her shaky footsteps back to the bed and helped her sit down.

"Hodgins assures me that's what I have in you and from a logical standpoint he is correct," she smiled at him.

"Well, thanks," he smiled back, "and maybe when we have some time you can tell me what to do to get you listed as mine? That way neither one of us has to worry."

"I would like that," she said softly.

It took another hour before Brennan was officially discharged and given a prescription for an anti-inflammatory, as well as a painkiller for her headache; which was still substantial. She found she was still slightly unsteady on her feet, but Booth merely wrapped an arm around her waist and walked beside her, encouraging her to lean into him as much as she wanted to.

By the time they got home they were both tired and hungry, so Booth made sure she was comfortable on the couch and then whipped up a few sandwiches for them and popped in an old John Wayne movie. Once the food was gone he popped the recliner out so they could nestle closer. Brennan tried hard to stay awake, but her weary body had other plans and she was lulled to sleep by the steady beat of Booth's heart.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Booth had every intention of calling off work the next day, but Annie showed up at seven-thirty ready to spend the day with Brennan and he reluctantly left, promising he would return at lunchtime. Brennan was pleasantly surprised when the other woman didn't treat her like an invalid, but rather let her do all of the simple tasks she could, only taking over or doing something entirely for her when it was necessary.

They spent the morning engaged in conversation surrounding the current state of the American higher education system, comparing some of the various types of grad students they'd both had over the years. Annie also shared about what a hard working student Booth had been when she'd had him, and how proud she'd been of him when he'd earned his Master's. That facet of Booth's personality was one she hadn't realized existed before they'd begun dating and it both intrigued her and made her realized just how little he'd shared about certain aspects of his life over the years.

True to his word, Booth came home to eat lunch with them, then explained that his class for the afternoon had been canceled pending the investigation into what had gone wrong the day before, but he still needed to fill out and submit a stack full of paperwork before he could come home. Annie suggested he bring Brennan along to sit in his office with him, just to give her a change of scenery. This idea very much appealed to Brennan, and it appealed to her even more when he agreed that she could bring her laptop and get a small amount of her own work done.

By three in the afternoon, Booth was done with everything for the week and they took off for DC. He still wasn't sure that having an excitable ten year-old on their hands for the weekend was the best of ideas, but Brennan refused to let the boy down and truth be told she was very much looking forward to watching Parker's big game and hosting the barbeque at their house afterward.

Booth refused to let Brennan go grocery shopping with them on the way home as she was already starting to flag. He also suspected that for every wince or groan that made it to the surface, there was a whole lot more that she was keeping to herself. He hated that she was feeling like crap, hated even more that it had happened on his watch, and after all that had happened to them so far he couldn't help the paranoia that was creeping in.

Still, as she pointed out, they needed food for the next day so he had no choice but to either let her go and chance her pushing herself too far, or leave her at home, alone. Parker, understanding only one part of the adults' conversation, offered to stay behind and "take care of Dr. Bones" for his dad, and after several assurances that the two would be fine together _and_ that Parker knew how to dial Brennan's phone in case of an emergency, Booth left for the grocery store.

"How come Dad was so worried?" Parker asked as they sat down at the dining room table to a game of checkers.

"He doesn't like it when people he loves are in pain," she tried to explain.

"Yeah," Parker nodded sagely, "I cut my finger pretty bad once and he was really freaking out about it even though I was okay. I didn't even have to get stitches." He paused for a second before asking, "Is your head gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, touched by his concern. "The bones will take some time to remodel, but they will heal, and the bruises will fade."

He looked at her thoughtfully, "Will you still be able to be my dad's partner when you guys come back to DC?" She nodded her head and he smiled broadly, "Good, 'cause he really likes working with you, Bones, and I like it too. The Jeffersonian is super awesome!"

Parker went on to tell her all about his latest science class with her father, and that he would be attending a science camp later in the summer at the museum that covered some of the very basic elements of forensic science. She smiled wistfully when he mentioned that they would get to tour the lab, including the forensic platform, and when he began to talk about getting to see Cam and Max, she felt a wave of homesickness tug at her.

An impatient knock interrupted them, increasing in pitch and fervor as she got up and slowly walked over to answer it.

"Keep your pants on Booth," she called as she finally reached the door and opened it. "Happy now?"

The person waiting on the other side of the door, however, was not Booth. And they were not happy.


	26. It's All Relative

**Hope you all are having a great Labor Day weekend! I had a great day with my family and in that vein, here's a chapter about family!**

**Gum :)**

* * *

Chapter 26: It's All Relative

Booth was just pulling up to the house when he spotted a figure lurking outside of the front door. Not pausing to figure out who it was he had the SUV parked and was around the other side of it when he noticed the door opening, the slightly hunched figure of Brennan in its frame, looking with surprise at the man before her. Muttering a few colorful epitaphs under his breath Booth jogged across the sidewalk and up the path to the house just in time to catch their conversation.

"You're not Booth," she stated bluntly, clearly not expecting anyone else at the door.

"Are you alright?" the other man replied with equal bluntness, his eyes raking up and down her carefully. "Where's Booth?"

"He went to the grocery store for the barbeque tomorrow," her arms crossed over her chest, implying it was really none of his business. "What's the matter, Dad?"

From where Booth stood, Max looked like he was about three seconds away from blowing a gasket, but still he held off from making his presence known.

"You shouldn't be alone right now and Booth should know better," Max's voice was low and tight. "I oughta castrate him."

Brennan's jaw set, "I'm not a child, Dad, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm not alone."

"Mr. Max!" Parker materialized at the door beside Brennan. "Are you coming to my game too, tomorrow? And the barbeque? It's gonna be _HUGE_ and everyone's gonna be there right, Dad?"

Booth cleared his throat and came the rest of the way up the walk, "Sure is buddy. You gonna help me get the ice cream out of the truck before it melts?"

Parker didn't need any further encouragement as he tore across the yard in his bare feet toward the car. "You too," Booth didn't give the older man an option. "There's plenty of work to go around."

Max looked between his stubborn daughter and the man who might as well be his son-in-law and gave a curt nod before following Booth. Parker was already bouncing up and down on the hot pavement, calling for them to hurry, so they said nothing until the boy was trotting back to the house, lugging the bags full of ice cream out of the summer heat.

"See you got my message," Booth said casually, loading Max up with a few cases of soda.

"Is she okay?" Max wanted to know. "And don't you BS me, Booth, or I swear I'll hit you in the nuts again."

Wincing in remembrance, Booth assured him, "Bones is okay. She needs to rest, and heal, and _not be stressed out_, but she'll be fine."

The two men were still squared off when Parker came out for another load and took it back inside. Finally, Max seemed to be satisfied and grunted something about getting everything unloaded, so the two men grabbed the rest of the bags and headed into the house.

To no one's surprise, Brennan was putting away the items that Parker had already brought in by the time Max and Booth made it to the kitchen. Booth let her put away a few things but at the first hint that she was starting to flag he excused them both out to the living room and tasked Max with finishing the chore.

"I'm fine, Booth," she insisted as he led her over to the couch.

"You're wincing and you shook your head three separate times while we were in there," he countered, pulling her back against him all the while being careful not to touch her head. "Are you feeling nauseous?"

"No," she made a conscious effort not to shake her head so as to minimize the pain. "It just hurts. I took my scheduled dose of the anti-inflammatory, however the prescription-strength pain reliever leaves me only semi-cognizant of my surroundings and I didn't feel it was responsible of me to take it while I was alone with Parker."

"Thanks, Bones," he smiled sincerely. "Parker's not alone anymore, though, so you can take it if you need to. Max and I'll hold down the fort."

"You called him," it wasn't a question, though she did wonder what his motives in doing so were.

Booth planted a soft kiss on her forehead before snagging her meds and her half-full glass of water from the nearby end table, "He's your dad. Dads like to know these things, trust me."

She chased the pills down with her water and frowned, "Regardless of his perceptions, I am neither weak nor helpless, and in fact am a fully functioning adult who has been taking care of herself for quite sometime now."

He nodded as she spoke and got to her feet, guiding her gently up the stairs to lay down for a while, "Max knows that, Bones, he does, it's just- Look, when Parker gets hurt, even it's it just a small scratch, I hurt too and want to do everything in my power to fix it, because he's my kid and I love him. Granted," he chuckled as they entered their room, "Max tends to go overboard sometimes, but everything I've ever seen him do has been because he loves you and wants to protect you."

There was a glassy look in her eyes when she finished changing into an old pair of cutoff sweats and a tank top and then burrowed underneath the covers, but she didn't let go of his hand, so he sat down on the bed beside her, quietly stroking her back and waiting for the meds to kick in all the way.

"When I was very young," her voice floated up to him sleepily, "I was terrified of thunderstorms and would often run into my parents' room and climb into their bed if it was the middle of the night." She paused, and for a moment he thought she'd fallen asleep on him, but then she continued, "One night during a particularly fierce storm, my father carried me back to my own room and held me in his arms as he explained the scientific principles behind the storm so that I wouldn't need to fear it any longer."

"Sounds like a good dad to me," Booth commented softly when she fell silent again.

"I love him very much," she yawned, closing her eyes and letting sleep envelop her.

Booth heard a faint noise and looked up slowly to find Max silhouetted in the doorway, his eyes misty, but focused intently on Brennan.

"He loves you too, Bones," Booth assured her, dropping one last kiss on her brow before releasing her hand.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

The two men exchanged a look as Booth brushed by and headed downstairs to Parker. It was several minutes before Max joined them but whatever frustration he'd held toward Booth earlier had dissipated. None of them had eaten dinner yet, so Booth threw some hamburgers on while Parker introduced Max to the finer points of the Wii.

They were in the middle of a fierce boxing match when Booth came back to the adjoining dining room with the food. He busied himself by setting the table and pouring the drinks, and when he was done he sat down to watch the rest of the game, a small smile on his face.

Parker, as he always did, was flailing around like a wild man, getting in shots where he could and relying heavily on the fact that his actions were unpredictable. Max, on the other hand, was as cool and collected as he was when he fought hand-to-hand in real life, so his shots were fewer, but did more damage in the long run.

Booth recalled his partner once complaining that her father had never deliberately let her win as a child, and it seemed Max hadn't mellowed in his old age as he was currently beating Parker's virtual counterpart soundly. To his credit, Parker was far from giving up, and was bobbing and weaving all over the living room.

In the end, Max won, but once the game was over, he paused to give Parker a few pointers, and the two of them grinned conspiratorially at Booth when Max whispered something that he first loudly announced would help the boy beat his dad. Booth scoffed good-naturedly and told them to get out to the table before he ate all the food for them.

Parker and Max held an animated discussion on what they'd be studying during science camp in a few weeks in between bites and to his surprise, Booth found that he could follow along and even participated in it with them. When Parker looked at him wide-eyed, Booth explained that he'd taken a few forensic science classes in college, and then at the FBI academy, plus hanging around the squints for the last five years he'd learned a thing or two too.

This led to a conversation on college and Booth restrained himself to a small smirk when he informed Max that he had a Master's degree. That smirk was wiped away when Max proceeded to smoothly inform Parker what Booth's degrees were in, then asked the FBI agent if he still preferred older literature, or if he'd found a taste for newer books as well; specifically those in the crime/romance novel genre.

"I'm sure you know that too, Max," Booth said drily, realizing he wasn't the only one at the table who ran thorough background checks for the ones he loved.

They might have taken a few more verbal potshots at each other, had Parker not belched loudly, drawing a quick glare from his dad. The boy opened his mouth again to apologize when Max let one loose on purpose, dragging it out loud and long. Giggles erupted as Booth, not to be outdone, chugged his soda quick and hard, then started belching the alphabet. Before long, full-blown belching pandemonium had broken out, until they finally ran out of soda and stopped.

Parker, who'd always liked Max anyway, declared him to be officially "awesome," and father and son even decided to let him in on the secret Booth boy handshake, that ended in high-fives all around. Max was a good sport and played along, then led the small troop into the kitchen to handle clean up duties, all the while making it seem to Parker as if they were just playing a new game. When they finished, the boy begged Max to stay overnight and come to his game the next day and was overjoyed when Max said that he'd be happy to.

Parker all but bounced up the steps on his way to get ready for bed and Booth had to gently remember to be quiet since Brennan was already asleep.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Booth asked when they'd said their prayers.

Parker nodded enthusiastically as he sat up in bed, "Lots! Mr. Max isn't as old as Pops so he can play with me, and he's _way_ cooler than Grandpa Stinson!"

"Probably should keep that just between us, Parks," Booth cautioned. "We wouldn't want to hurt anybody's feelings."

"Okay. Hey," the boy wondered out loud, "if you and Dr. Bones get married will she be my step-mom?"

"Yup," Booth confirmed, glad it was just the two of them. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Oh yeah," Parker didn't have to think twice. "Bones'll be an awesome step-mom 'cause she doesn't treat me like a baby or anything and she's really good at helping with homework and stuff like that. She knows everything about everything!"

Booth chuckled, fairly sure the woman herself would claim that no one was omniscient, but relieved to hear that if the couple ever _did_ take things to the next level, Parker already approved.

"So if Bones will be my step-mom, does that me Mr. Max will be my grandpa?" Parker reasoned. "Because maybe if he was he could hang out more and even go fishing with us sometime. He said he used to go fishing with his little boy all the time when he was my age, so I think he'd like that, don't you, Dad?"

"Probably, kiddo," Booth smiled, then motioned for Parker to get under the covers. "Right now though, I think we could all use some sleep. It's gonna be a busy day tomorrow."

"Okay," Parker yawned, giving him a tight hug before laying down. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah, Parks?"

"What's 'castrate' mean?"


	27. Rationally Speaking

Chapter 27: Rationally Speaking

It was a mildly surprised Brennan who descended into the living room the next morning to find her father sound asleep on the pullout couch, snoring softly. After taking her pain medication the night before, she'd fallen into a sound sleep and she'd heard nothing. This morning, while her head still throbbed dully, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the two days previous, and her other various injuries seemed to be healing satisfactorily as well.

"Smells good," Max breathed deeply, entering the kitchen where she had already started the coffee and was contemplating what to make for breakfast. "You know," he put in with a smile, "pancakes are never a bad choice when feeding a mostly male population."

"I'd concluded the same," she smiled back, collecting the correct items from the pantry and the fridge. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," he shrugged, then rested a soft hand on her shoulder. "How about you, Tempe? Are you alright?"

Carefully setting down the container of flour, she turned to face him, "I am-" she paused, then replied truthfully, "recovering. Which is not to say I'm without pain, but it has lessened considerably over the last twenty-four hours, to the point where I see no reason for me not to be able to sit through Parker's game."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he gave her a quick hug before coming alongside her to help with the meal, "and Parker will be thrilled that you're going. That game was all he could talk about last night."

"His team has done very well in the tournament thus far," she smiled, proud of Parker's accomplishments, then frowned, "though from my research the team they're playing today is also an excellent one." She cast a sidelong look at Max as he stirred the batter, "I presume Parker invited you to his game as well?"

"Yeah," he grinned widely. "We had a fun time together last night. He's a great kid."

"He is, and his father's a good man," she glared pointedly at her own father.

"Yep."

"So perhaps you could refrain from threatening his genitalia every time you conclude he's done something wrong?" it was more of a command than a question despite her vocal inflections.

"Hey, it's our thing," Max protested, then backpedaled as her glare intensified. "Fine. Fine. Look, it's not because I think he's a bad guy, or even that I don't trust him- because I do."

When he didn't explain himself right away she pressed further, "Then why are you so hard on him? Is it simply male posturing?"

"One one level," Max smirked, then sobered, "but on another it comes down to me wanting to make sure you're healthy and happy. God knows I abdicated that role for long enough, so when things happen to you I get anxious. Yelling at Booth helps burn off that steam; and keeps the pressure on him to make sure you're doing okay."

"Dad," she sighed, unsure if she should be grateful for his protection or resentful toward it, "I _am_ happy. Booth values my happiness as well and would sacrifice his career, his life- whatever it would take- to ensure my safety and well-being, and I would do the same for him. You two are quite similar in that area and you should both realize that your goals are the same despite your differing methodologies."

"So when's the wedding?" he quipped.

"Why is it that everyone always asks that?" the soft clacks from her knife as she sliced neatly through the fresh fruit became louder and more precise. "When Booth and I were just partners, everyone wanted us to date one another. Now that we are dating, the question of marriage comes up constantly. Can't anyone simply be content with where our relationship stands?

"I also don't see why marriage is the ultimate expression of one's love for another person," she huffed. "Statistics prove that entering into a marriage relationship does little to guarantee that relationship will last any longer than a monogamous dating relationship. Rationally, it should make no difference one way or another. A commitment is a commitment, whether it is validated by the government or not."

Max chuckled softly to himself at her tirade as the fruit salad grew and when he felt she was ready he spoke softly, "You view me as a rational person, correct?"

"Very much so," she nodded.

"Well, rationally speaking, your mother and I should never have gotten married," he told her. "We were almost complete opposites, we had very little money at the time, and neither one of us had any clue what we wanted to be when we grew up.

"The one thing we did have was our partnership. I'd worked a few con jobs with different people in the past but none of them, _none_ of them, went as smoothly as they did when the two of us worked together. Now," he held up a hand, "I know you and Booth fall on the opposite end of the law spectrum from us, but when you strip it down to bare essentials, we're more alike than you think."

He allowed her to ingest and process that information before adding, "Love isn't one of those rational things in life, Temperance. You can't put it in a beaker and measure it. You can't predict when it's going to strike or how it's going to act based on past experience. The kind of love it takes to sustain a marriage? That takes hard work and dedication and no matter what the books tell you it's _not_ an easy thing. But to have what it takes to build a great life for yourself and choose not to take that final step? It'd be like building a storm cellar but keeping the door open all the time just in case."

Silence fell between them as Brennan took in his words and attempted to apply them to her own life. They worked in tandem preparing the rest of the meal and getting the table set for the four of them, even though the two Booth boys were apparently still sound asleep.

Max was just about to suggest they go rouse the troops when he heard her ask softly, "Was it worth it?"

"What?" he wanted to be sure he knew what she meant.

"Marrying her? Losing her? Was it worth all of that for the inevitable pain?"

"Would you feel pain if Booth were to die tomorrow?" he asked in lieu of an answer. "Would you wish you'd never known him?"

"Of course I would feel pain," she said from experience. "Booth has made quite a number of metaphorical marks on me and I would grieve the loss of his presence and friendship and love deeply. And no, I would not wish I'd never known him."

"Exactly," Max nodded. "You're ready for this, Temperance. You're ready to risk having a family again; with Booth. You just have to let go of your fear."

There were no hugs or outbursts of emotion between the two of them, but there was an understanding, and she nodded, letting him know she'd received his message and would seriously consider what he had to say. Just as they'd set the last dish of food on the table, there was a loud pounding down the steps and before she knew what was happening, an exuberant Parker flung his arms around her in a tight hug and declared that today was going to be the best day ever.


	28. Root For the Home Team

Chapter 28: Root for the Home Team

The game didn't start until eleven, but they were there an hour early for warm-ups and the sun was already shining bright, the sky clear. Parker fidgeted in the car as Brennan applied sunscreen to his face and arms liberally, providing a lecture on the difference between UVA and UVB rays as she went. Booth stood chuckling against the side of the SUV until she finished with Parker and set her sights on him next, while an already-sunscreened Max walked Parker over to his team.

"Hey," Booth pouted as she closed the bottle and began walking away. "Why aren't _you_ putting any on?"

"I applied mine a half an hour prior to leaving the house so as to obtain maximum protection," she said as if he should have deduced as much.

"Of course you did," he rolled his eyes, hefting two bulky bags over his shoulders.

"Why did you bring the portable chairs with you?" she asked as they made their way over to the field. "The bleachers should be more than adequate."

"Trust me, in a couple of hours you'll be thanking me," he told her. "These puppies each have awesome back support and a drink holder!"

She had to admit, the back support sounded nice given her injuries, but she couldn't resist teasing him, "Is something wrong with your hands that you can't hold your own drink?"

He stuck out his tongue briefly and laughed along with her as he set up the chairs right next to the bleachers where Max was already sitting. Only a few minutes later Chris and Annie showed up, followed soon after by Becca, Jared, Padme, and Hank. Max and Hank immediately hit it off, and before long Booth could hear them commiserating together and he wondered what kind of afternoon he was in for.

"Hey, Statler and Waldorf, remember there are kids here," Booth called up to them, surprised when Brennan started laughing beside him. "You know what that means?" he teased.

"Of course, silly," she rolled her eyes. "We got the Muppet Show in Ohio too, you know."

"Her mom used to call the two of us Bunsen and Beaker," Max supplied with a wistful smile.

It was a good memory and father and daughter shared a small smile before everyone's attention focused back on the field. They watched the opposing team take infield practice and even Booth commented that they looked sharp. Every ball was fielded cleanly and crisp throws were made to whichever base the coach on the sidelines called out to them. Brennan noticed that even though Parker's coach was attempting to focus his players on their own efforts, they were distracted by the other team's precision; which she presumed was the intent. Fortunately, Parker's team had already had their infield practice and a few minutes later the field was cleared for the pre-game ceremonies to begin.

As both bleachers full of spectators stood to their feet for the National Anthem, Booth couldn't help being riveted to the small pixie of a girl with auburn ringlets and bright blue eyes who belted it out in such a pure voice it evoked all that was good and noble about the country he loved so much. There wasn't a dry eye in the house when she finished, skipping back into her daddy's waiting arms, and Booth couldn't help but dream about what it would be like to someday have his own brown-haired, blue-eyed little girl who sang better than Cyndi Lauper just like her mom.

The roar of the crowd as the ump cried, "Play ball!" was enough to break his reverie and remind him that dreams were for someday, but right now he had his son to cheer on; one who just happened to be the starting pitcher today. Parker was composed as he took the mound and the game started with a ball that caught the left hand corner of the plate for a strike.

As it turned out, the two teams were very evenly matched and it soon became apparent that the game would be a pitcher's duel. Both boys were dialed into the strike zone and Brennan was mesmerized by the display of skill at such a young age as Booth explained the more technical aspects of pitching from time to time. The thing she found most unique was that for as much of a team sport as baseball was, it was also a showcase for the individual talents of the batter and pitcher.

In the fifth inning it became clear that Parker's energy was flagging and he was taken out of the game after walking the first two batters. He sat at the far end of the dugout, legs bouncing nervously up and down as he watched anxiously to see what the outcome would be. The next batter came up and struck out on four pitches and Parker breathed a sigh of relief.

His anxiety returned in the next breath though when the following batter hit a towering fly ball on the first pitch. It didn't make it out of the park and the center-fielder made a clean catch, but it was deep enough to advanced the runners to second and third. Now there were two outs and two runners in scoring position as the other team's biggest player came to bat. He was as tall as some of the dads in the stands and easily weighed as much as Brennan, though it was not distributed on him as proportionately.

"No way this kid's Parker's age," Booth muttered out of the corner of his mouth, then caught sight of an equally large man on the other side of the stands cheering raucously for his son and amended himself. "Never mind."

The kid gripped the bat like a cudgel, swinging it in several pendulum-esque arcs before tapping the dirt out of his cleats and stepping into the batters box. There was a pause and then the first pitch came in low for ball one. The next pitch sailed high, but the kid at the plate hacked at it and missed for a strike. The relief pitcher reset himself, shaking off several signs from the catcher before getting one he liked. Another swing. Another miss. Strike two.

Gigantor stepped out of the box and looked up the third base line to his coach, whose hands were gesticulating wildly. With a nod and a few more practice swings he stepped back in and stared the pitcher down fiercely. All eyes were on the showdown on the field as the pitcher wound up and the ball came out of his hand. There was a ping as rawhide struck aluminum.

Parker stood up, knuckles whitening as he gripped the chain-link fence of the dugout, his heart sailing when he realized that the hit wasn't as hard as it sounded, then sinking as it found a hole and dribbled into shallow right. The second baseman pounced on it immediately and got off the throw to the catcher guarding home plate.

There was a tangle of arms and legs as the runner bowled the catcher off his feet just as the ball hit the glove. Parker was about to let out a cheer when he spotted the ball rolling away toward the backstop as the umpire spread his arms, signaling the runner was safe. The pitcher, who had been standing behind the catcher to back him up, scooped up the ball to hold off the other runner from scoring, but the damage had been done.

The next batter came up with runners on first and third, and hit a rocket to second, which the second-baseman caught on an easy bounce and stepped on the bag to beat the lumbering hero in a force out. It was a dejected group of boys however that returned to sit with Parker and despite the coach's pep talk, they never really recovered and before Parker knew what was happening, the other team was spilling out of their dugout, jumping around and cheering like they'd just won the World Series.

Parker slouched back to the SUV, not caring about the second-place trophy he'd been given during the post-game ceremony, and not willing to talk to anyone who approached him. It was a quiet ride back to the townhouse and the boy wished that they'd never planned the barbeque in the first place. There was no argument from him when his dad told him to go up and get changed and as he closed the door he wasn't sure he'd ever want to leave.

Down in the living room, the group of adults had assembled, all understanding the boy's disappointment but realizing that there was nothing they could do to console him.

"He pitched so well for so long," Jared lamented. "It's just rotten luck he was the losing pitcher."

"Jared!" Brennan exclaimed, looking like she was sorely tempted to throw him off a bar stool again. "Parker is _not_ a loser!"

"Yes I am, Bones," all heads whipped around to the sad figure inching his way down the steps with a heavy sigh. "I let the guy on who scored, so it's my fault. It's my loss."

"But you weren't the one responsible for that other boy who hit the run in," she protested.

"Doesn't matter," Parker shrugged. "The first guy wouldn't have been on if I hadn't walked him so his run is counted against me."

"Well," she nodded, seeing the logic in the explanation, "while that may be true, I still assert that you are _not_ a loser, Parker, and perhaps in time you will be able to acknowledge how superbly you pitched as a whole. One earned run in five innings is still a 1.80 ERA; which is a highly commendable accomplishment if I'm not mistaken. Not to mention, your team won second place in the regional championship."

It really didn't make him feel all that much better, but he knew she was trying to help so he mustered up a smile, "Thanks, Dr. Bones."

The mood was still a bit down, but as the afternoon wore on, the pall lifted gradually and by early evening they were all laughing and enjoying each others' company. Parker even managed a wide grin when Brennan produced a homemade cake that she'd decorated to look like a miniature field, complete with nine miniature figurines scattered throughout. Hank then showed him how to scoop vanilla ice cream and drizzle strawberry syrup on top to look like frozen baseballs.

Booth was outside cleaning the grill, trying to forget the fact that he'd had to send Parker back to DC, when Max came ambling out of the house.

"Quite a boy you've got," the older man smiled congenially.

"Yeah, well," Booth ducked his head, then met Max's eyes. "You've got a helluva daughter too, you know? What she did for Parker today? That was..."

"I know," Max nodded. "Pretty sure some of that credit goes to you, though, son. I missed out on fifteen years of her life but since I've been back all I've heard is, 'Booth says this,' or 'Booth taught me that.' She loves you. Not many men can claim that."

"You can," he said knowingly, then added, "Thanks for sticking around this time."

"Thanks for taking care of her," Max returned.

"Always."

Max smiled once again, knowing that this might be the one other man on the planet so deeply invested in his daughter. As he turned to leave, he bid Booth goodbye, dropping a package on the patio table for him before disappearing into the house.


	29. Funeral and Wedding Plans

Chapter 29: Funeral and Wedding Plans

Sunday was a relatively laid-back day. Booth went to early morning Mass, figuring he owed it to God for sparing Pops and Bones all in one week, and he returned around noon to find both of them puttering around the kitchen. Pops had stayed overnight in Parker's room and, under Brennan's careful watch, had eaten healthy meals and taken all his meds at the right times.

Just as had happened when he came to visit in DC, Booth found himself wishing that his lifestyle could accommodate having Pops come and live with him, rather than sending him to live in an impersonal retirement home. He and the old man had been tight growing up and it felt wrong for Booth not to give back to him in some way. Still, it was nice that they were in the area now, so he tried to be thankful for what he had.

"Shrimp," the older Booth said after they were all filled to the brim with the stir fry that Hank and Brennan had created, "I've got something for you."

"Aw, Pops, no," he shook his head. "You don't have to give me anyth-"

He stopped short at the folder that was unceremoniously handed to him, his mouth agape as he began reading, "What- what does this mean, Pops?"

Brennan sat beside him and read over his shoulder, "It's all of the legal paperwork for a pre-paid funeral, Booth."

"Yeah, I got that much," he shot her a look of annoyance, then turned to his grandfather. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" Hank shrugged, then grew serious. "Look, Seeley, like it or not, my days are numbered, and I don't want to make things any harder for you than it should be. Temperance here has been helping me with all the details and I think between the two of us, we've gotten everything set up that needs to be."

"Whoa, wait," Booth felt slightly betrayed, looking back at Brennan, "you _helped_ him do this? You encouraged it?"

"Of course," she nodded, not understanding the source of his growing agitation. "The death of a loved one can induce a distraught mental state, making it difficult for the grieving family to make non-feelings-based decisions. Planning ahead eliminates that stressor."

"Great," he slammed the folder down on the coffee table and began waving his hands. "Great. So all I need to do now is just twiddle my thumbs and wait for Pops to kick off, that's a relief! Did you two make an appointment with Kevorkian while you were at it?"

Hank said, "Shrimp," just as Brennan said, "Booth," and the man himself stood up and stormed out of the room. The house rattled as the sliding glass door slammed shut, leaving a stunned pair in its wake.

"Do we 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' for him?" Hank quipped wryly.

They had discussed the possibility that Booth would react in such a manner and she shook her head, "I'll give him a few more minutes to calm down and then talk to him."

**B&B&B&B&B&B**

Booth paced the small backyard, wishing he'd brought his punching bag from DC for moments like this. The shed door now bore a fist-sized dent in one side and his knuckles smarted, though right now he was letting the pain fuel his anger.

"I'm not up for any anthropological inevitabilities today, Bones," he sighed heavily when he sensed her presence behind him.

She didn't launch into a speech, though, but rather with a firm grip on his arm led him over to the patio table, where a first aid kit stood waiting. Deftly, but gently she swabbed each knuckle with alcohol, then slathered them with antibacterial cream.

"It's not that I think he's going to live forever," Booth tried to explain as she worked. "This just feels like he's given up and I don't like it."

She nodded, still quiet, and lifted his hand, gently wrapping it in gauze.

"I mean, yeah," Booth went on, "this last scare was close, but he should be thinking about staying healthy, not about his funeral." A lump caught in his throat and he sought out her eyes to guide him through the emotional turmoil, or at the very least try to understand where he was coming from. "That man," he pointed to the door, "gave me _everything_. I- I can't think about losing him yet, Bones. I just can't."

When she finally spoke, it wasn't to lecture him, but to nod and tell him softly, "I know. Are you scared?"

He didn't catch what she was getting at right away until she opened her arms and beckoned him in with a tilt of her head. The last time he'd held her that tight was when he'd found out that the bones she'd been looking at weren't JFK's and it was a long time before he felt stable enough to let her go.

"This is important to him, isn't it?" Booth knew the answer because if he was honest it was something he'd do for his family too; taking on burdens so that your family didn't have to suffer unnecessarily was something Pops had taught him long ago.

"Okay, I'll do this," he blew out a long breath. "For him."

There wasn't a whole lot of dialogue as they went beck inside and Hank outlined the funeral plans he'd selected, including his desire to be buried in the same plot as his wife. Booth listened, nodding and signing forms when he needed to, all the while praying that it'd be a long time before he had to implement any of it. For her part, Brennan was glad no further emotional outbursts occurred and that by the end of the day, both men were smiling and joking as if everything were normal.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Monday morning when she arrived at work early with the ever-vigilant Booth to find a new, larger security detail waiting for her, it was Brennan's turn to be reactionary. In her mind, while the two incidents were disturbing to a point, increased security merely made it that much more difficult for her to focus on the job at hand; especially when Booth informed her they would be following her everywhere.

"Will they watch me urinate as well?" she rolled her eyes, disliking all of the attention being directed at her.

"If you try and give them the slip, yes," he wore a smile but his tone was grave. "I'm serious, Bones. No more close calls with death for you."

"My life hasn't been in danger either time," she insisted. "Even Dr. Albright agrees we can't let these setbacks get in the way of our research."

"Well, you're not dating Dr. Albright," he flipped his poker chip in the air and caught it, "so the new security stays."

"None of this would've happened if I had gone to Maluku in the first place," she groused, her eyes everywhere but on him.

"Nope," he grinned, knowing she was just blowing off steam, "but by now I'm sure I'd be down there hauling your butt out of some cave-in, or mudslide, or volcano. Just face it, Bones, if there's trouble, it'll find you, and now you'll have a few people who can bail you out when I'm not around."

"Don't you have a class to teach?" she glared at him.

"I love you too," he winked, pecking her on the cheek before heading out. "Happy Monday, Bones!"

It wasn't a happy Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday. Very little was trickling in from the dig site now, and what was, wasn't yielding anything more than they already knew about human development. Fortunately, her incident at the shooting range had not made any of the papers, but the donors still weren't pleased with the progress of the project and she found herself on the phone more than she was in the lab examining remains.

At nights, she and Booth were both tired and crabby, snipping at each other for every little thing and finding there were plenty of things that irritated them.

"He's so slovenly," Brennan complained to Angela when the artist called to see how she was doing. "He leaves dirty clothes all over the floor, doesn't wipe his facial hair clippings out of the sink, appears to have an aversion to putting clean dishes away even when I'm the one who washed them, and both he _and_ Parker would've long ago stained the floors yellow were I not vigilant in that area."

"Aw, so Booth's a real man after all," Angela chuckled.

"This isn't humorous, Ange," Brennan protested.

"Actually, it is," the artist laughed, then became more serious when she sensed Brennan was frustrated. "Look, just because Booth is amazingly sensitive at times and guards your life as if it were the most valuable thing in the world doesn't mean he doesn't have his own little personality quirks. We all do, and believe me, Booth's are just as male as the next guy. Just be glad yours didn't grow up with a butler like mine."

"Are you and Hodgins experiencing marital strife?" Brennan was suddenly very concerned.

"Nah," she shrugged it off, "we're good. Neither one of us is perfect, but we're good. What about you and Booth?"

"We're-," Brennan paused before continuing with a shake of her head. "I don't know. We've been fighting a lot this week. Not that we haven't fought before at certain points in our relationship, but this week has been especially difficult."

"At least you get make-up sex out of it now," Angela joked.

Brennan agreed that was one advantage, but said out loud with a heavy sigh, "I'm weary of the fighting, and the constant tension, and the emotional maintenance needed to sustain an ongoing relationship."

"It's no picnic sometimes," Angela agreed. "Bren, all guys come with crap. Some big, some little. The question is do you love Booth? Flaws and all?"

"Of course," she affirmed.

"And will you still love him if he never puts away a clean dish or puts the seat down?"

"I will be frustrated, but it will not affect my feelings for him," Brennan answered.

"You guys are going to Jared's wedding this weekend, right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "That's been a source of frustration as well, now that I am her Maid of Honor and have been charged with increased responsibilities on top of Booth's responsibilities as Best Man."

"What happened to Padme's first choice?" Angela wondered out loud.

"Flu."

"Bummer. But look, why not see this as a good thing?" the artist asked. "I mean, you'll be in a killer dress, Booth will be in a tux, there will be plenty of free alcohol; sounds to me like the perfect setting for getting rid of that pesky tension and having some fun in the meantime. Are you staying in the city?"

"We haven't discussed it," she admitted. "The last time we stayed at my apartment, however, we were interrupted by the call about Hank."

"So get a swanky room at the hotel the reception's at," Angela suggested, "or go back to _his_ place and have your naughty way with him. Guys never turn down being seduced in their own lair."

"There's no bed in Booth's apartment."

"Well, normally I'd say who needs a bed," she joked, "but it sounds like you guys need the TLC route at this point so go for the hotel room."

"I don't know," Brennan was hesitant.

"Do it," there was no room for argument in Angela's voice. "Enjoy the wedding, dance with your man, and then run away with him and show him just how special you think he is."

"It's not _our_ wedding, Angela," she laughed for the first time that night.

Her best friend laughed with her, then quipped before they ended the call, "Not yet, Sweetie."


	30. Run Away Feelings

Chapter 30: Run Away Feelings

On Friday night, after the rehearsal finally met with Padme's mother's high standards, Booth and Brennan went their separate ways. Booth had planned a modest bachelor party for his brother, pointing out that as a cop, he wasn't going to be breaking any laws, plus there was only so much debauchery one felt like when the hardest drink available was Coke.

Brennan, on the other hand, found herself spending the evening with three women she barely knew, discussing topics she could barely follow, and for the most part she contented herself to sip at her drink; especially when the male stripper arrived. It wasn't that she disapproved, however, the man clearly lacked Booth's musculature and his features weren't nearly as symmetrical.

_Hey_, the three letters that crossed her phone's screen brought a smile to her face when she saw they were from Booth.

**Hello**, she replied, more content to look at the screen than at the man currently ripping off his pants.

_Having fun?_

**Not particularly,** she answered back right away. **Watching a man's hips gyrate erratically in form-fitting underwear isn't pleasurable.**

_Ew_, came the reply. _I'm not a Speedo guy, personally. Do the other girls like him?_

**It would seem so, yes,** she looked around the room at her companions as they laughed and urged the man on, ** though that could be attributed to the alcohol that's been imbibed.**

_I'd give anything for a good, stiff drink right about now_, he told her. _No strippers, no booze, and none of these guys but Jared know how to play poker._

**You shouldn't be playing poker,** she frowned as her fingers flew, **any more than your brother should be drinking.**

_I'm fine, Bones, I promise, _the response came back quickly. _It's penny poker and everything goes to Jared anyway. Kind of a bachelor party tradition. No actual gambling's going on._

**So are **_**you**_** having fun?** She couldn't determine whether he wasn't or not without vocal cues to interpret.

_Nah, these are Jared's friends, not mine._ Brennan's screen went dark after a few moments, then lit up again as he wrote, _Still wanna make sure that frontal lobe of yours isn't a raisin?_

Even if a part of her wasn't thrilled by that notion, she knew she wanted to leave and had already begun gathering her things when he texted back on how they should slip out and when they should meet.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

"Are you firing me?" she asked with a smile as she approached him at the bar, nodding at the bottle of tequila.

"Not tonight," he grinned back, standing up and pulling her in for a quick hug before turning back to the bar and pouring the shots. He winked, "But we _can _grab a cab if you want when we're done."

"Where's the SUV?" she didn't recall seeing it parked outside but it was fairly crowded and entirely possible he'd parked up the street.

"At Jared's," Booth shrugged. "I took the Metro."

She arched an eyebrow at him, unsure if it was because of the tension-fraught week or some other, unspoken, issue, but it was clear he was there to drink more than their usual amount. After the first shot, there was a gleam in his eyes that only served to fuel her innate competitive nature.

"Sure you're up for this, Bones?" he eyed her carefully.

She answered by pouring the next round and holding out her wrist. His irises went dark as his breathing quickened and he licked it for just a second longer than necessary. The second round was down before they knew what had happened and they were both blinking hard, but neither was ready to call it quits yet.

"As you can see, I'm more than capable of drinking you under me," she smiled languidly, leaning one elbow on the bar.

"Whatever you say, Bones," he grinned back, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm always happy to have you under me."

She frowned, brow furrowing as she tried to think of what she'd meant in the first place, then shook her head to clear it, "I'm not certain it would be wise to drink any more. Weddings tend to be long enough without the hangover."

Booth nodded, but set up a third round anyway, "I can't believe it."

"That Jared's getting married?" she took her shot, wincing at the burn. "We've known about it for months."

"See," the word was slightly slurred as his leveled a finger and tapped her lightly onthe nose, "you're the little sister so you don't get it. Bet good ol' Russ would."

"Would what?" she started to pour the next round but his hand stayed hers.

"Never mind," he shook his head and with a world weary sigh threw down a wad of bills on the counter and handed the bottle back over to the bartender with a friendly wave. He was only slightly unsteady as he hopped down from the bar stool and he offered a hand to help her down. Her heels got caught up in one of the the lower rungs and she fell into his arms unceremoniously, taking a few extra seconds to scramble to her feet.

They were both supporting each other as they went out into the night, the humidity enveloping them like a warm, wet blanket as soon as they left the comfort of the air-conditioning.

"Are you going to help me get what I don't get?" she asked as they meandered toward the nearest metro stop arm in arm.

"How can I help you get what you don't get if you don't get it?" he replied, nudging his shoulder with hers.

The repetition of words plus the alcohol fog didn't make that question an easy one for her to translate, so she nudged him back and told him instead, "I like knowing what you know, Booth."

"Yeah," he nodded, a sloppy grin on his face, "I kinda love that about you. Not that it isn't annoying as hell sometimes. But it's cute."

"Does this have something to do with Jared, as the younger brother, being married before you are?" she guessed.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," he announced dully.

He said nothing more and while it didn't bother her that night, by the time they woke up the next morning her curiosity and concern was eating away at her. It would've been better had they bickered with each other all morning but instead, they simply coexisted and when they arrived at the church they parted in uneasy silence.

They saw each other for a brief moment as the wedding coordinator herded them into one room to wait and he caught her eye and bowed his head in silent apology.

"We okay?" he whispered, sidling over and pretending to fiddle with the bow in the back of her dress.

She nodded, turning around to smooth his perfect bow-tie, then just as the nasal voice of the coordinator called for Booth to leave, whispered, "I believe eloping would be preferable."


	31. Tongue Kiss the Maid of Honor

Chapter 31: Tongue Kiss the Maid of Honor

As he stood at the front of the sanctuary, his mind raced as his fingers ran over and over the smooth edge of the poker chip in his pocket for every time her words repeated in his mind. One of the things he'd learned about his partner over the years was that she didn't play weird mind games like other women, but she _did_ use language precisely, and just now she hadn't _said_ she wanted to elope with him, merely that eloping would be the preferable method.

Still, once the seed was planted in Booth's mind, it wasn't a leap for it to take root. They'd had enough open discussions about starting a family and getting married since they'd left DC, and the memories of the quasi-real life they'd shared in his dream, that he could picture it now. They weren't a Vegas kind of couple, but he could see swinging by the JP's office one day after work to make what they had legal and going right back to their lives.

Of course, he thought as he looked out at the modest group of family and friends who had gathered today, he knew that at least Angela and Pops would kick his ass if they were left out, and if they came, then the entourage of squints would too, along with Jared, Padme, and Parker. And Max. And Caroline.

His thoughts were torn away from his own wedding as the music began for Jared's. The carved oak doors at the back of the sanctuary glided open and he craned his neck for a glimpse of her but had no such luck. Padme's mother was escorted up the aisle, followed by the string of bridesmaids. Booth's breath stuck in his throat as Brennan was framed by the door and began walking slowly down the aisle toward him.

The pale lavender dress with a sweetheart neckline fit her perfectly, hugging her curvy figure and accentuating all that was beautiful to him. Her hair had been elegantly done up and the way she seemed to glide right up the aisle made her seem very regal to him. Her eyes locked onto his when she was halfway down and she allowed herself a small smile at him when she finally reached the platform.

They both turned to watched the flower girl, one of Padme's younger cousins, and Parker enter. The little girl stopped and dumped the entire basket of petals on the floor, then found her mother in the audience and ran to her. This threw Parker off for a moment, but he quickly recovered and carefully made his way up, balancing the pillow and rings. Booth, of course, had the real rings in his breast pocket, but Parker still didn't feel like making a fool of himself in front of a crowd. Parker handed the pillow over to his dad, then sat down next to his great-grandfather in one of the front pews.

By that time, Padme was being escorted in by her dad, looking radiant all swathed in white silk from head to toe, her smile one of the only things visible through the veil. Booth felt Jared stiffen beside him and looked at his brother, watching the younger man's smile grow as his bride neared. He could see the love Jared had for her and when Padme's father tucked the veil softly behind her head it was clear to see that the love was mutual.

The ceremony wasn't long, or if it was, Booth didn't notice because once they were all in position he discovered he had a great view of Brennan, and his eyes didn't leave her until the priest declared the other couple to be man and wife. It was slightly uncomfortable to get such an up close view of Jared and Padme's obligatory kiss, and got even worse when they deepened it and kept going. Just before Booth was about to step in and do something drastic, they stopped, though their eyes never left one another even as the music began playing and they walked back up the aisle. There was a signal from the back and Booth and Brennan turned to one another, linked arms, and walked up as well.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

It was almost an hour later when a very hungry wedding party was announced and seated at the reception. Booth had been able to snag a few things from the trays of food the caterers brought for them to snack on while they waited but now he was ready for something a little big bigger, though he quickly discovered that wedding food wasn't all that much greater than the fancy dinners he and Brennan had been going to recently.

Once the food was almost all gone, it was time for the speeches. Booth's speech wasn't long, but it was heartfelt, and by the end, the jealousy he'd been feeling was all forgotten as he saw how truly happy his brother was and what a good man Jared had become. He then listened with pride as he watched Brennan rise and give a speech that was only a slightly modified version of the one she'd given when Jared first brought Padme into town.

"Perfect," he murmured into her ear as she sat down, kissing her neck softly as he did.

She blushed but moved just a little bit closer to him and he made a mental note to thank Padme for seating them together instead of on opposite sides of the table as was traditional. A few of the groomsmen who were also married or seeing someone also looked happy that they got to sit with their significant others. They also hadn't assigned seats at the other tables in the small reception hall, allowing people to sit where they wanted to.

Once the speeches were over, the dances began and the party started in earnest. The music was fairly standard, but was lively and kept the dance floor busy all night long. Parker and Pops were both out dancing away and having a good old time, and both smiled widely when Brennan offered to dance with them.

"Mind if I cut in?" Booth asked Parker as the music slowed down.

Parker didn't mind one bit and declared slow dancing boring before heading back to sit with Pops.

"Enjoying yourself?" Booth asked as they moved together.

"I am," she smiled. "Though I'm the one who should be asking you that. Are you feeling any better in regards toward your jealousy?"

His lower lip curled up in a half-grin, loving the fact that she never let him off easy when she was concerned about his behavior, and he nodded, "He's happy. I want that for him."

"And for yourself?"

He pulled back and slowed them down just the slightest bit so that he could meet her eyes, "I am happy, Bones. Living with you. Loving you. I couldn't be happier."

"But you wish you had been the one to marry before your brother?" it was clear she was trying to understand why he'd been so down the night before.

"The part of me that's staring down forty is, yeah, but it has nothing to do with you and me," he insisted. "It's just-" words were failing him. "I don't know. It was stupid, forget about it."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," she laid a hand on his chest.

It meant so much that she thought that of him, but he still didn't want to dwell on it and he changed the subject, "So is a road trip to Vegas in our future, Bones?" She quirked an eyebrow at him so he went on, "That's where most couples elope."

"I wasn't specifically talking about us," she smiled and shook her head, "and I don't think Las Vegas would be ideal, given your gambling tendencies. Nor do I wish to be married by an Elvis impersonator."

"Me neither," he chuckled, spinning her around before pulling her close again.

They fell into a companionable silence, dancing in time with the music as if they'd been a couple for years and not months. He thought about how good it felt to finally be able to hold her, and how the fact that she could talk and tease about weddings and marriage and him all in the same sentence thrilled him to no small end. Marriage would be the icing on the cake, but he really was happy with her and the life they'd carved out for themselves and he'd still be happy if that was all he got.

In his arms she suddenly stood stock still, her head shooting up to stare at him as the next song began.

"The were asking for requests," he smiled. "And you seemed to love this song."

"I do," she nodded slowly. "I'm not sure why but it's always been a favorite."

"And Cyndi Lauper," he teased as Seal waxed poetic about roses being in bloom. "How did you miss Michael Jackson, is what I want to know?"

She shrugged in his arms, "I was picky."

He muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch but they both smiled and they enjoyed the song, and each other, the way he had wanted to at her high school reunion. Several minutes later, the song ended and the lights came up, and the DJ announced that it was time for the bride to throw her bouquet.

Brennan wasn't planning on joining the throng of women moving to the prescribed area but found herself herded along with the other single members of the bridal party who insisted she _had_ to go with them. A large spectacle was made of the whole ordeal and when the bouquet was finally released, Brennan noted that the arc of the flight path would end very close to her, and without a second thought she reached up and caught it neatly, unable to resist the triumphant smile at outwitting the others.

As soon as Brennan caught the bouquet there was no question in Booth's mind that he would catch the garter. He didn't know how up-to-date she was on her wedding traditions, but there was no way he was letting any other single guy in the room _near_ her legs. It was easy enough to muscle his way through the task; though he could've killed Jared for making it just about as hard on him as he could. Still, Booth snatched it away from the horny vultures, only realizing once the stir was over what that meant for him.

The DJ, egged on by Jared, made a big deal about the couple going to the center of the dance floor. Brennan sat down on the chair provided and fully immersed herself in the role, spurred on by the catcalls and cheers around them.

"What are you waiting for?" she grinned at Booth, who had turned three shades of pink by now. "Are you," she paused for dramatic effect, "chicken?"

Brazenly, she leered at him and hiked the dress up, presenting her leg to him, daring him with her eyes to play along. Booth meanwhile, was busy naming saints and praying for a sinkhole to open up and swallow him, his tie feeling as tight as his pants did once her leg was on display for everybody. He glared lasers at Jared who was doubled over with laughter.

Rod Stewart belted out "Hot Legs" as Booth was blindfolded and spun around for good measure. He could smell her, though, and as soon as his hands made contact, he knew where he was on her body. The song switched and as if things couldn't get any worse, it was now Angela's dad singing about legs, and Brennan was singing right along with him. Booth fumbled around, getting it onto her ankle and telling himself he was only going mid-calf.

"You can do better than that," she scoffed from above him when he stopped.

He had no choice but to keep going amid the hoots and hollers, until finally he got it just above her knee and she stopped him, then took his blindfold off and kissed him soundly. There was tongue contact.

"You know what they say about the couple who catches this?" she said later, playing with the flowers as they walked out to the car.

He nodded, surprised that she did, and smiled.

"I suppose that would make us engaged to be engaged, wouldn't it?" her eyes were sparkling with mirth and mischief.

"Mmm," he nodded, pinning her up against the side of the car, "I like the sound of that."

They kissed and Booth was suddenly glad that Rebecca had insisted on picking Parker up only an hour into the reception.

"So how will I know when we're supposed to get engaged, engaged?" he asked, deciding this was as good a time as any to float the question.

Her brow furrowed slightly, then she grinned wolfishly up at him, "It's like pornography, Booth. You'll know it when you see it."


	32. Dead Reckoning

Chapter 32: Dead Reckoning

It was a shrill ringing that roused Brennan from a deep sleep and she groaned at the man beside her, "You get it."

"Why me?" he groaned back when he realized the room was still mostly dark.

"It's your phone," she rolled back over and buried herself in the covers.

It was and apparently, he'd left it in the bathroom, so there was more groaning as he dragged himself up and stumbled across the room, not bothering to stop for clothes along the way.

"Booth," he flipped open the phone after he'd cleared the sleep out of his throat. The voice on the other end was familiar, and far too chipper for whatever time it was, "What's up, Buddy?"

"I think I left my glove in your car," Parker told him. "Can you check?"

"Who is it?" Brennan mouthed as Booth came back into the room.

"Parker," he mouthed back, scrambling quickly into bed again as he said aloud, "Do you need it right _now?_"

Beside Booth, Brennan was chuckling as he fumbled for the covers.

"He can't see you," she said in a stage whisper.

"What can't I see?" Parker wanted to know.

Booth shot Brennan a glare as he assured Parker, "Nothing! It's nothing. Look, did you check your bag? Because last time it was in the big front pocket."

"That was the first place I looked," he could see Parker's eyes rolling over the phone.

"What's he missing?" Brennan whispered, curiosity piqued.

"Well, how about your pillow case?" Booth questioned his son, then looked at Brennan. "Your _glove_ could be anywhere, you know?"

Brennan's lips formed an 'o' as Parker asked, "Are you okay, Dad? You sound kinda weird."

"I'm fine," Booth told him, his voice squeaking somewhat as the naked woman beside him decided it was a good time to get up and walk out of the room, giving him a very nice view in the process. He cleared his throat again, "Hey, um, Bub, we'll look around for it here. Maybe, you know, get back to you when the sun's up."

"Mom said I could call you in the morning," Parker informed him.

"Of course she did," Booth muttered blackly at the green numbers on the clock that told him it was barely five.

The boy heard nothing and went on, "Bobby Rutherford's dad is gonna take us to the high school to play on the field when I go over tomorrow, 'cause he's the assistant coach, so I really _need_ my glove and I couldn't find it _anywhere_."

Booth's throat went suddenly dry again as Brennan appeared in the doorway, dangling Parker's glove from one finger. He tried to regain his composure as Parker went on to tell him that he was going to get to use a real wooden bat too.

"You always say wood's the best, right, Dad?" the eager boy asked.

"Right," he managed after swallowing several times. His chest heaved with relief when Brennan tossed the glove onto the bed and disappeared into the bathroom and he could talk normally again. "Hey, Pal, Bones found your glove."

"Awesome!" Parker yelled over the line, forcing Booth to hold the phone away from his ear. "Can you bring it so I can use it tomorrow? Please, Dad?"

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "I'll drop it off after work this afternoon, okay?"

Booth heard a familiar, female voice in the background asking Parker why he was up and yelling so early in the morning.

"Dad found my glove, Mom," Parker explained as if she should realize that. "He's gonna bring it this afternoon." There was a pause on Parker's end of the line and then he informed Booth, "Mom says I gotta go 'cause it's too early to call you."

"Smart woman," Booth murmured. "Why don't you go catch some more 'Z's' and I'll see you later today; deal?"

"Is Bones coming too?" Parker wanted to know.

"I'm not sure, Parks, sometimes she has to work late," he explained. "She'll see you again on the weekend, though, okay?"

Fortunately, it was okay and Parker hung up just as Brennan appeared from the bathroom and sauntered over to the bed, well aware of the effect she was having on him. One of her lips curled up as his tongue swiped at his dry lips.

"Please tell me it wasn't in the car," he breathed as she came closer.

She shook her head slowly, hair fanning out and settling on her shoulders, and said something about it being in the closet, but Booth wasn't really listening and in the ensuing collision of arms and legs his cell phone tumbled to the floor, forgotten.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Brennan never really got back to sleep and rose before the alarm could shatter the silence. The sun was creeping up over the horizon and she smiled at the man who was sprawled out next to her, taking in the sight of him one last time before leaving their bed. It was rare for him to look so calm and relaxed, so she let him be; resetting the alarm so he wouldn't be too upset with her. As softly as she could, she donned running shorts and a tank top, then slipped out the bedroom door before the rustling around woke him.

Five minutes later she was outside, the humidity already forming a haze around her despite the early hour. The rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement was soothing, though, and it felt good to be alone with her thoughts for once. It wasn't that she didn't value Booth's insights, but despite all that had changed between them, there were still things she knew she needed to sort out for herself and between work and home, time alone had become a luxury.

This morning, she made her circuit long, taking full advantage of the time before work and other such things intruded. A week and a half had passed now since Jared's wedding and while it had gone quickly, it hadn't been as stressful as the two previous weeks. This past weekend, she'd spoken at a symposium in New York, and made several promising contacts, then she and Booth had spent the rest of it playing tourist and seeing all of the sights.

A find of moderate significance had been unearthed in Maluku, as well, generating excitement and raising morale to an all time high as the remains were shipped back to the states and the findings authenticated. This time, Brennan had learned from the past and not only did she personally make sure the precious samples were delivered from one department to the other, but she also made sure that no one stayed at the lab past nine at night to ensure that they were all as fresh as they could possibly be.

Booth had approved of this measure wholeheartedly. He was finally settling into his role as a full-time instructor and the pair had spent quiet evenings at home, playing games, watching movies, or just talking, for the first time since they'd moved. Tomorrow, she smiled at the thought, she'd get to teach at his side again; though this time, Booth had been adamant that there would be no bullets of any kind being shot in her direction.

At the apex of her run, she stopped at the small post office just beyond the neighborhood's border. Since they lived so close, they'd been required to rent a PO Box for mail service; though outside of bills, they rarely received anything else, and sometimes they would go a few days without collecting it. Brennan had argued several times that if they would set up all of the bills to be paid electronically they wouldn't have to bother with a mailing address at all, but Booth didn't see the sense in paying extra money toward the processing fee when he only had to pay a few cents for stamps and a check.

Sure enough, the box was all but empty despite not being checked yet this week, and the first two pieces were sale papers that she disposed of on her way out. Next was the cable bill. She was about to resume her run when she noticed that the other remaining envelope wasn't a bill, but rather a personal letter.

Max Keenan's neat handwriting adorned the outside and she sat down on a nearby bench to open it. A picture tumbled onto her lap along with a short note:

_Tempe-_

_ I found this and thought you might like it as much as I do._

_ Love,_

_ Dad _

The picture was well-worn, the colors dulled from age, and a crease ran down the middle where it had been folded. Frozen in time, a girl no older than three stood on her tiptoes in a ruffled dress, head tipped back with a wide smile as pink taffeta whirled in a blur around her.

On the back of the photo, in faded blue script that could only have been written by one person, was a single word that echoed in every footfall the woman that child had grown into made as she began running toward home, "Joy."


	33. Mirage

Chapter 33: Mirage

When Booth woke up again, the first thing he noticed was that the other side of the bed was empty and cold. Before the adrenaline kicked in, though, his eyes found the note she'd left on the buzzing alarm clock, saying she'd gone out on her run already. He shook his head at her dedication to the morning ritual, and he couldn't complain about the results; but he definitely wouldn't have minded waking up next to her.

One shower, two coffees, three eggs, and a few slices of toast later and she still wasn't back, so he headed back upstairs to change for the day. It was when he decided to surprise her by making the bed that he discovered his cell phone, tangled in the covers, a small envelope blinking in the corner to let him know he had a new text.

**Went to work early. Busy day today**, was all it said.

That explained why she hadn't come back, he thought, but as he continued getting himself ready he wondered if maybe she just needed some time and space to herself. She'd mentioned just the other day that sometimes she missed being alone and Booth understood that. They were both, by nature, private people, and they'd both been on their own for a long time. Learning to be there for one another, but also give each other a wide berth when needed had been a slow process, but they were getting there.

Content in the knowledge that she would seek him out when she was ready to talk, he finished cleaning up after himself and headed to the academy. He was running a little late and missed the morning staff meeting. Chris razzed him about it as they headed to class, and became relentless when he spotted the hickey just below where Booth's collar came up. Reddening slightly, the younger agent pulled his collar up as high as it would go and tightened his tie just as the first of the students began to arrive.

The morning passed quickly as Chris and Booth put the students through their paces in the practical application part of their interrogation class. As it had been with the very first round of students Booth had taught, these men were closer to his age and were focused on honing their skills. It gave him a large sense of accomplishment to watch them put the teaching to good use and he had no doubt that these men could go back to their departments and make them stronger as a result.

Around noon he sent a quick text to Brennan, letting her know he was going to stay at the office over lunch and get a head start on his paperwork since he'd be going to DC as soon as his second class let out. The reply text assured him that was fine and he got the impression that she was swamped, so he didn't bother to invite her along for the drive, but instead told her he'd meet her at home later.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Booth had barely parked in the lot beside Rebecca's building when Parker came running out the front door to meet him.

"You're the best!" the boy exclaimed, catching the glove neatly as Booth tossed it to him. "Thanks!"

"No problem," smiled Booth, producing a glove of his own along with a ball. "Wanna play catch?"

He did and Rebecca didn't mind so they headed over to the park and threw the ball back and forth, talking about everything from baseball to what Parker thought he might want to do when he grew up. FBI agent was still pretty high on the list, next to being a pro athlete of some sort, but Parker was also talking about college and maybe getting a doctorate and Booth could see just how much influence the squints had had on his son over the years.

"Are you still going to coach my hockey team?" Parker wanted to know, throwing the ball right at Booth's glove.

"Of course, Bub, why wouldn't I?" he sent it sailing back.

"Well," Parker stretched out to catch the ball neatly, "you aren't playing on _your_ team because you moved so I wasn't sure."

"I wouldn't miss it for the-" Booth stopped mid-sentence and whirled around, his sniper instincts screaming.

Agent Rick Veers was headed their way, flanked by two other agents Booth didn't recognize, and they didn't look happy.

"Stay behind me," Booth ordered Parker out of the corner of his mouth before stepping forward to meet the other agents. "Can I help you boys?"

"Badge and gun, please, sir," Veers held out his hand expectantly.

Booth's eyes bulged out of his head, "Excuse me?"

"Badge and gun," the man's face was a stone as he repeated himself.

"You mind telling me what the hell's going on?" Booth looked from one face to the next and saw nothing that helped him.

"Dad?" Parker's nervous voice sounded behind him.

"Mr. Booth, please hand over your badge and gun and come with me," Veers ordered, taking a step forward.

"What's happening?" Parker was starting to panic.

Booth turned to his son, "It's okay, Pal." He slowly removed his gun and badge, then took the revolver out of his ankle when Veers' eyes flicked in that direction, and held them out, "There. _Now_ will you tell me what's going on?"

Veers took Booth's weapons and handed them off to his lackeys, tucking the badge in his own breast pocket before announcing, "Seeley Booth, you are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Victor Arnold. Will you surrender yourself peaceably?"

A thousand thoughts flooded Booth's mind, chief among them that he wasn't about to get carted away in handcuffs with his son watching, so he nodded dumbly, trying to decide what to do next.

"Dad?" Parker's voice was shaky, his face paling.

"My son needs to be taken home," he told Veers quietly once the man had read him his rights. "I will do whatever you want, just take him home."

"I'm not leaving!" the boy sprung forward, suddenly brave. "He didn't do anything! You can't take him away!"

"Stand down, Parks," Booth held out a hand. "One of these guys is going to take you home while I go with them to sort this whole thing out."

"But you didn't kill anyone!" Parker exclaimed. "You could never do that!"

"Just go," Booth ordered calmly, handing Parker his mitt and the ball as Veers began nudging him toward the SUV that was parked at the edge of the grass. "Tell your mom what's going on and have her call Bones."

Parker deflated like a balloon, but kept his eyes locked on Booth's until his father was forced to turn around. Booth looked over his shoulder long enough to see the shorter of the two lackeys usher Parker toward Booth's SUV, the keys they'd confiscated from him swinging freely from the loop on the man's belt. He felt more than saw Parker seek him out one last time and when their gazes met, Booth prayed that everything would be sorted out and that in the meantime, Bones would get to DC fast.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_Pain woke her and threatened to make her pass out in the same breath. It was dark. She was cold. A single thought was too heavy a burden. The world bounced around her, flinging her like a popcorn kernel in a closed kettle. More pain seared through her and colors flashed across her eyelids. Though she knew he couldn't hear hier, one name rasped through her dried lips as the darkness claimed her again._


	34. The Ties That Bind

**Still fighting off the last vestiges of a nasty sinus infection, thus this is a bit short.**

**Gum :)**

* * *

Chapter 34: The Ties That Bind

"Seeley Booth, get your lazy ass up right this instant!" the familiar voice brought him stumbling to his feet and over to the front of the holding cell.

"Did Bones call you?" Booth breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Caroline was now in his corner, and he looked around, surprised that Brennan was nowhere to be seen.

"Look, Cherie, we need to talk," the prosecutor's low, stern tone made his gut twinge. She turned to the guard next to her and glared, "You just gonna stand there all day, Barney Fife, or can you let my client out so we can talk privately?"

The man gulped, his head bobbing as he reached for his keys and undid the door. Booth still wasn't in handcuffs, but Caroline assured the guard they wouldn't be necessary as they moved toward one of the smaller conference rooms. The guard let Caroline know he'd be right outside the door if he needed her and she thanked him, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Caroline I swear-"

She held up a hand to halt him, "You know, it was a good day today. The office coffee was decent, the doughnuts were fresh, but then, _then_, I hear Helen Fritz yapping about how she wishes she was an agent instead of a prosecutor so she could arrest your pretty boy self instead of Veers. I told her she must be thinking of another Seeley Booth and she assured me she was not and that you were, in fact, here already."

"Yeah, they hauled me away while I was with Parker," he groused, crossing his arms. "Kid's probably going to have to see Sweets for the rest of his life now. Look, what's going on, Caroline? Why do they think I killed Vicky? Where's Bones?"

It was Caroline's turn to sigh deeply and shake her head, "I don't know where she is, Cherie. I was hoping she was here trying to break you out or something."

"I haven't seen her since this morning," Booth shook his head. "She said she was going to the lab."

"What time was that?" she asked sharply.

"Around seven?" he shrugged, not really remembering. "Parker called before five this morning and woke us up. I slept in, but she went out for her run and when I got up there was a text from her that she'd gone into the lab."

"A run?" Caroline's eyes narrowed. "When?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I was beat from getting woken up so early. Probably around six, though, if I had to guess."

Her brow furrowed, frown deepening, "So you were alone this morning from six o'clock until you came into work late at quarter of nine?"

He nodded slowly as she pulled a folder out of her bag and set it between them, "Dr. Victor Arnold was shot dead at seven thirty this morning outside of his apartment building with a sniper rifle. Witnesses claim their was a suspicious-looking man heading up the street just a few minutes afterward, who was a little over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, though none of them caught his face."

"It wasn't me, Caroline, I'm telling you," Booth insisted.

"The only other thing all three remembered," she paused, looking him straight in the eye, "was the flash of his striped socks."

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_It was dark where she was, save for a single stripe of sunlight seeping in just above where she lay. Discovering she was not underground had staved off the first wave of panic. Realizing she was in a trunk had sparked a second. The fetid scent of dried sweat mixed with urine and gasoline made every breath an exercise in keeping her stomach contents down._

_A fresh wave of pain lanced down her left arm as the speeding vehicle jolted, slamming her down on her shoulder. Nothing felt broken, but her wrists and ankles were raw from chafing against the rough twine that bound them. Her tingling fingers groped uselessly for something. Anything. __They brushed the top of the empty clip on her belt where her Blackberry should be, then caught the edge of something protruding from her back pocket._

_This time when she closed her eyes to shut out the pain, all she saw was her younger self. Twirling. Happy. Free._


	35. Bringing in the Sheaves

Chapter 35: Bringing in the Sheaves

Caroline was forced to leave a sulking Booth in FBI custody while she went to do some legwork.

"You just sit here and try not to put any wrinkles into that pretty face of yours and I'll get this whole mess sorted out," she instructed him before calling the guard to take him back.

"Thanks, Caroline," he sighed, though they both knew he wasn't going to stop worrying just like that.

"Don't 'thanks Caroline' me, Seeley Booth," she shook her head, pausing at the doorway to face him. "We both know you've got enough anger issues to make this thing plausible to a jury, and it's gonna take some fancy footwork to get this cleaned up, but I'm doing this for _me_. I bail you out of this and you and your dream team science people go back to doing what you ought not've left in the first place."

One glance at her watch told her she didn't have time to spell everything out for him, so she turned and buzzed to be let out, figuring he could chew on that last bit on his own for a while. The prosecutor wondered if either Booth or Brennan realized just how quickly things at the Medico-Legal lab had disintegrated once two-thirds of the team they'd been had left. Cases like Booth's where there was a recognizable body were still regular enough to keep Cam and Caroline on their toes, but she knew that all of the ones liked they'd solved before were slipping through the wide bureaucratic cracks and sooner or later, that was going to come back to bite them.

She made a quick pit stop at the duty officer's desk in Holding to make sure he knew she would be keeping close tabs on how Booth was or wasn't treated while he was in custody, then hopped an elevator to the fifth floor.

"Clear your schedule," she told Dr. Sweets, plopping Booth's case file on his desk without a care in the world about the blubbering agent currently on the couch.

"Excuse me," he poked his head around her to talk to his client, then placated them with some trite shrink speak while Caroline stood there waiting. "How can I help you, Ms. Julian?" the kid asked when they were finally alone.

She jabbed a finger at the file, "I need you to come up with a list of reasons why Booth _didn't_ murder a man who was hitting on Dr. Brennan, then get another list of people who'd want to make it look like he did."

"Booth is- I mean-" he stuttered as he started sifting through the file. "Wait, you're talking about mounting a defense?" Sweets eyeballed her. "Aren't you a _prosecutor_?"

"Did you or did you not catch the name 'Booth' in the middle of what I just told you?" she huffed.

"I did."

"Good, I trust I don't need to say anything more to that end," she waited for his nod. "Alright then, you do what you do and meet me at the diner first thing tomorrow morning with whatever you've got."

"Um," he spoke up when she was halfway through the door and all but melted under her glare as he hurried to get his thought out, "I can't work on this tonight."

"You can play Dungeons & Dragons some other time," she rolled her eyes, seriously hoping this was worth the effort.

"No, no, it's-" pink crawled up his skin. "Look, I started playing some piano over at the mall since Daisy left me and-"

She held up a hand to stop him and intensified her gaze until she was satisfied he'd be calling the mall to cancel, then added, "Clean those Oreo crumbs off your face while you're at it."

He muttered something about trying to grow a beard but she was already out the door and on her way to the elevators, cell phone in hand.

"What can I do for you, Caroline?" the voice on the other end asked as the elevator moved.

"You got a Victor Arnold over there, yet, Cher?" she queried the pathologist. "He's a fresh GSW from this morning."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Cam answered.

"He's probably over here," Caroline muttered to herself as she shouldered her way through the elevator crowd and slipped into the privacy of her own office, then cleared her throat. "Okay, I'm gonna need to track him down but when I do, I need your eyes and somebody else's hands to do a thorough autopsy. Not some intern, either, but someone who knows what they're doing and doesn't mind doing it right away, got it?"

"Not to seem conceited, Caroline, but I _am_ a good coroner," the trace of wounded pride was evident. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I _can't_ tell you that he was one of the lead scientists on that Maluku," she lowered her voice so that only Cam could hear her, "or that the lead suspect is his boss' boyfriend. Though I can tell you there will be a conflict of interest since you used to date said lead suspect."

On the other side of the line there were a couple of choice words, then a hurried agreement that Cam would do whatever, whenever. Caroline gave her the same meeting time and place as she had Sweets, then hung up and allowed herself a minute to relax in her chair before dialing the next number. It went to voice mail, so she dialed another.

"Maluku Stateside office, how may I help you?" a soft, southern accent greeted her.

"I'm looking for Dr. Temperance Brennan, is she in?" Caroline wasted no time.

"I'm sorry, this is Dr. Su Grey. I'm afraid Dr. Brennan's out with the flu today," the woman informed her.

"She is?" Booth hadn't mentioned that tidbit and it sent up a red flag.

"Yes," Dr. Grey answered, "Her secretary let us know first thing this morning. Marcie left early, though too with a touch of the bug, so we've been taking turns manning the phone. I was just about to close the lab for the night."

Caroline looked at the clock and realized it was almost six and she still had some more calls to make. She thanked the woman for her time, then gave her her cell number and told her to call if Dr. Brennan didn't come in again the next morning.

After a quick call to the morgue, her final call of the night was made from her office phone.

"Who is this?" a paranoid voice on the other end demanded. "How did you get this number?"

Caroline ignored the brusque tone and outlined everything to Hodgins that she had for Cam and Sweets.

"You want us to fly back tonight?" was his incredulous reply when she finished.

"Train, plane, Batmobile, I don't care," she told him. "Just get back to DC and be in the diner tomorrow morning."

"How about noon?" he asked. "We'll be jet-lagged."

"Brunch," was as much as she was willing to compromise, "Sleep on that fancy private jet of yours if you have to."

"One last thing," Hodgins wanted to know before he let her go, "how's Dr. B holding up?"

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_She still wasn't sure how long she'd been in the trunk of the moving car, but as the sunlight faded it was starting to come back to her how she'd ended up there in the first place. Beyond the pain from the where the ropes were rubbing her skin raw was an ache in the wrist from where her attacker had yanked it when she fought back._

_ A ski mask had covered the face of the man who stood just slightly taller than Booth and every bit as physically fit as the agent. She'd heard the footsteps behind her but had been so engrossed her her thoughts surrounding the photograph, she hadn't registered them as a threat until he was upon her and had secured his hold on her. __The man had bound and gagged her, then snatched her phone almost immediately and shoved her roughly into the trunk. _

_Even if they managed to impersonate her via a text message, she reasoned that by now__ Booth would realize that she was missing. He would see to it that a full-scale investigation was launched as soon as possible and would leave no stone unturned until she was safely returned._

_ A quasi state of peace came over her, numbing the pain if only momentarily. All she had to do now was stay alive long enough and Booth would find her. She had faith. _


	36. When the Bough Breaks

Chapter 36: When the Bough Breaks

By the time Caroline finished everything she could that night and made it back to Booth's holding cell he was pacing a hole in the floor and running through the last twenty-four hours trying to figure out how everything was spiraling out of his control.

"What did I tell you about worry lines?" Caroline's voice brought him to a standstill as she strode in, settling her large frame awkwardly on the cell's hard plastic chair.

She motioned for him to sit down on the cot, but he couldn't, opting instead to lean against the wall across from her and fold his arms, "Where's Bones?"

"Aren't you just a little bit interested in what I've been doing to clear you of the _murder_ charge?" she eyed him, but he didn't care.

"I've been here almost five hours and haven't heard anything from her," he was growing more agitated just thinking about it. "She should be here by now. Even if she was tied up at the lab all day."

"You said you got a text from her saying she was going into the lab, right?" Caroline's question made his stomach drop and he nodded. She looked at him with guarded eyes, "Her assistant got one saying that she was out with the flu. She was never at the lab today, Cherie."

He punched the cinder-block wall, the resulting pain in his knuckles giving him something to concentrate on rather than the truth. "Did you try and call?" he had to know.

"It goes right to voice mail every time," she said softly.

This time he swore and started pacing again.

"You need to go to the house tonight," he told her. "Make sure she's not there before we report her missing. See if there's anything hinting she made it back to the house. Then we should question the neighbors and see if any of them saw anything-"

"Do I look like a PI to you?" Caroline cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It is eleven o'clock at night, you are _not_ getting out of this cell any time soon, and I am _not_ traipsing off to Virginia to poke around your place and see if she may or may not be there."

"She's not there," he told her, shaking his head. "If she was home she'd be here by now. They must've taken her."

"Who?"

"How the hell should I know?" he flung his hands in the air. "Whoever put me in here and killed Vicky. They've got her Caroline and they managed to do a helluva job making sure nobody realized it until it was too late."

"You think she's been gone since this morning?" the prosecutor sighed heavily.

"I'd put money on it," he said grimly. He paced a few more times, "I've gotta get out of here."

"No can do," she shook her head. "Now, I've got the whole team coming together tomorrow morning to help me go over this thing with a fine-toothed comb and help me spring you as soon as possible, but I need you to promise me you won't do anything stupid in the meantime."

He blew out a long breath, but agreed, "We need to report Bones missing. Somebody _needs_ to be looking for her."

"You know as well as I do nothing can be done at this hour," Caroline was sympathetic, but firm. "There won't be any signs of forced entry at your house if she was taken during her run and given everything it just might make them look at you even more closely. No," she shook her head, "we'll wait 'til morning and file the report, and get a team down there to check things out."

"Not Veers," Booth said flatly.

"Agent Veers is a good man who is just doing his job and you know that damn well, Seeley Booth," she chastised him. "All we've got to do is shed a little reason on the situation for him and if we can confirm that Brennan is missing that will help. I think. I've got a meeting with him tomorrow either way. Anything I should know?"

He couldn't think of anything though at the moment his mind was still trying to figure out what to do for Brennan. It chafed being trapped and powerless and if whoever was behind the whole mess had managed to separate them so effectively he shuddered to think what other things they had done to ensure that they stayed apart.

There wasn't anything left to be said so Caroline rose from her chair, promised Booth she'd check in first thing in the morning, and left. Not long after the doors clicked shut behind her, the main lights were shut off and Booth sat down on the cot, realizing for the first time how tired he'd become. A yawn escaped him unchecked and he shucked his jeans and tried to get comfortable under the thin blanket.

His mind, though, refused to turn off, and his anxious heart beat in time with the throbbing of his muscles. He needed to get out and find her before things got worse and he never saw her again.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_Claustrophobia had set in as soon as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared, triggering flashbacks that left her paralyzed with fear. No matter how many times she convinced herself that Booth was coming, her heart still raced out of control at the thought of what would happen should they decide to keep her in the trunk indefinitely._

_ Oxygen was not a problem given the small gap in the trunk lid and a small, circular hole in the floor. She could see the pavement whizzing past beneath her, though she gave up trying to determine how far they'd traveled considering all of the time she'd spent fading in and out of consciousness._

_ They'd taken an exit off of the highway several miles back from what she could tell and while their speed had decreased somewhat, they were still traveling fast. All of a sudden they made a sharp right and the car jolted, sending her forehead solidly into the floor as hard as the brick wall had hit her at the FBI academy._

_ Pain exploded in her head and she passed out._

_ It could've been hours or minutes later when she came to, head throbbing as bright lights danced in front of her. A part of her knew that she was still in the dark and was suffering from the head trauma, but that didn't make her head and neck ache any less._

_ The car ground to a halt, tires crunching on what was almost certainly not asphalt. The trunk lid swung open and her lungs gulped in the fresh air feverishly. A shadow crossed her vision path and she felt the cord at her ankles bing cut as the same rough hands that had grabbed her before did so now._

_ Once she was outside and on her feet, she staggered from one side to the other, unable to keep her balance on feet that had become numb over the course of the journey. Her captor caught her as she listed dangerously to one side and she with as much strength as she could muster, she shook him off and tried to run._

_ Coarse laughter echoed in the night air. Her aggravated injury combined with the poor circulation in her legs was debilitating and she was back in his firm grip before she could stray far. Straining in the dark, she tried to get a good look at his face as he led her forward, but to no avail. The lights on her vision had faded and left her vision blurry instead to the point where she was unsure if there were two men present or just the one._

_ Hinges protested loudly and she was propelled through a doorway and into a damp room that smelled of must and mildew. The man was gone before she could speak and she was alone, shivering from fear and pain as much as the cold. Groping in the dark, she could find no bed, only a bale of hay and a canteen of water._

_ It was stale and tasted like aluminum, but she welcomed it anyway, spilling a good deal of it on herself in the process trying to drink with her hands still bound. She tripped on something in the dark, bringing her knees slamming against the rough floor and igniting the pain all over again. It took every last effort to get herself over to the hay bale before she curled up on it and surrendered to the darkness._


	37. Waking Up to Reality

Chapter 37: Waking Up to Reality

Sleep eluded him no matter what he tried so eventually he gave up and when the night guard made his rounds, Booth stopped him and convinced him that he needed to use the phone. Fifteen minutes later, the call was made and Booth returned to the cot, his burden slightly less cumbersome than it had been. He closed his eyes, said one last prayer for her, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

"Which part of not doing anything stupid did you not understand?"

"Mornin' Caroline," he yawned.

"It might have been a good morning," she huffed, "if you hadn't decided to make phone calls instead of sleeping in the middle of the night like a normal person."

"Normal's boring," he smirked. "Did Max find anything?"

"Ask him yourself," Caroline shook her head and moved to the side to reveal Max behind her. "I have a _job_ to do, so you two can just keep each other company for now."

The guard opened Booth's cell and ushered Max in, releasing the older man from his handcuffs none too gently and left them without a backwards glance.

"Nice digs," Max commented. "My old place was half this size."

"Glad you like it," he deadpanned. "What are you doing here, Max?"

With a shrug of his shoulders, Max took a seat on the plastic chair, acting for all the world as if he was just dropping by for a visit, "Apparently your neighbors don't like people poking around late at night and picking locks."

"What was wrong with the spare key?" Booth demanded. "I told you where to find it."

"The fake rock was there, but it was empty," Max explained. "There was a nice note from Temperance inside it though, telling you it was far too conspicuous of a hiding place. Good thing you never locked yourself out, huh?"

He grunted a response and found that he wasn't all that surprised by the news. Brennan had never thought highly of the rock even back when it was at his old place, though knowing that she'd taken the key out would've been helpful.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, not holding out much hope.

"She wasn't there, just like you said," Max's voice was grim, "and that big shoulder bag she always takes to work was still hanging in the hall closet. I might've gotten more if the cavalry hadn't shown up. Guess I should be glad they let me call a lawyer."

"You called Caroline?" Booth now understood why the woman had been so grumpy.

"You told me to," Max pointed out.

"I told you to call her if Bones wasn't there," he corrected, running a hand through his hair. Max gave him a look and he sighed, knowing there really wasn't anything else that could've been done. "Well, at least we know for sure now that she's missing. Not that that helps since we're both stuck in here."

"She's tough," Max tried awkwardly to comfort him. "She can get herself out of a tight jam when she needs to."

Booth knew that, but it didn't help him feel any better. The fact that she'd been taken successfully and without anyone realizing it for so long made him nauseous because it suggested that they were up against professionals. Couple that with how neatly Booth himself had been taken out of the equation and it was enough to spark the beginnings of full-fledged panic. Not that he was about to let that show to anyone, but it was still there and if he didn't get out soon it wouldn't be pretty.

Max started asking questions and Booth found himself telling Max about all the things that had gone wrong since they'd moved: the break-in at the lab, the shooting, even Victor. He'd hoped that by going over it again, either he or Max would pick up some kind of clue as to what was going on, but while they both determined Booth had been set up, they were no closer to figuring out who was behind it.

It was close to one in the afternoon when Caroline finally returned, only to let Booth know that Veers would be interrogating him within the hour. Sure enough, a few minutes later the guards took him out and marched him up to the interrogation room. Thankfully, they didn't run into anyone that Booth knew along the way, though it still felt humiliating to be led around in the Hoover and be put on the opposite side of the interrogation table with Caroline beside him.

Veers wasn't condescending, but he was blunt. He cut right to the chase and laid out a series of pictures from the crime scene, showing Victor in a pool of his own blood on the sidewalk, a neat hole in the back of his head. The other agent went over the witness accounts, looking pointedly at the striped socks Booth still had on from the day before.

"You and Dr. Arnold didn't get along, did you?" Veers asked.

Booth looked over at Caroline, who nodded, before admitting, "He and I weren't friends."

"Indeed not," Veers nodded. "In fact, according to the people I spoke with, the two of you clashed from your very first meeting. Quite the opposite of his first impression of Dr. Brennan, eh?"

Booth shrugged noncommittally, refusing to let any emotion flicker across his face.

"Witnesses say the two of you fought over her that first night," Veers went on, eying Booth closely.

It was an exaggeration and both of them knew it and again, Booth refused to comment.

"I fight with my secretary from time to time," Caroline spoke up. "Doesn't mean I'd kill her though, so either tell us why you're continuing to hold my client based on nothing but hearsay or let him go."

"I was just getting to that," Veers grinned slyly and Booth knew this wasn't going to be good. "While I'd agree with you that hearsay isn't much in court I think you'd both agree with me that DNA evidence is."

"What?" Booth exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to lunge across the table and wipe the smug smirk off of Veers' face.

Veers slid a report across the table and replied as Booth and Caroline leaned over it, "Care to tell me how you're going to explain to a jury why your DNA- DNA that was less than twenty-four hours old at the time it was retrieved- ended up under Victor Arnold's cold, dead fingernails?"

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_She woke up freezing, mind still sluggish, though at least her vision was not still impaired by flashing lights. Muscles that were stiff and sore from the day before protested heavily as she tried to stand up. Listing dangerously to one side, she attempted to right her world, leaning on the hay bale to keep her on her feet._

_Once that was accomplished, she took a closer look at her surroundings. Rough, wooden walls penned her in a space that was roughly six feet squared. The lone hay bale was an island amid the dirt floor that reeked of feces and urine; which she suspected were from a horse rather than a human. _

_Sunlight filtered in through the slats of wood in the ceiling and she wondered if a full day had passed since her abduction. How much had Booth discovered thus far? Had any small clue that would lead him to those responsible been found?_

_The hinges on the door creaked, revealing the same man who'd taken her. A ski mask hid his features and he said nothing as he set a tray of food down on the floor and left. It wasn't much, but her stomach growled and she couldn't stop herself from trying to eat with her still-bound hands as quickly as she could. The fresh canteen of water tasted stale and metallic in her mouth as the water from last night had, but her parched throat didn't care._

_A few minutes later, the man returned, this time, with heavy shackles for her ankles such as were used in prisons. After they were snapped on her ankles, he secured the two-foot-long chain to a stake that she hadn't noticed was beside the bale of hay, effectively trapping her in place. He then replaced the twine around her wrists with shackles that allowed her a modicum of freedom, but not nearly enough to free herself._

_Apparently satisfied with his work, the man picked up the empty food tray and left, deliberately dropping a newspaper just outside the range of her chain. It took a great deal of effort and a hefty amount of pain to retrieve it, but she finally did, and she settled down on the hay bale to read it._

_Despite the dingy light and her pounding headache, the large, bold font of the headline stood out to her loud and clear, "Local FBI Hero Arrested." _


	38. I've Got You Under My Nails

Chapter 38: I've Got You Under My Nails

One minute Booth was staring at the file in front of him showing that his DNA was found on Victor Arnold and the next he was being hauled to his feet and shoved out the door by a slightly hyper Caroline who told Veers she needed to consult with her client. Glaring daggers at the guards who looked like they were going to tag along she prodded Booth into one of the empty conference rooms and shoved him into a chair.

"That's your DNA," she wasn't asking him.

"Yup," he admitted softly, trying to look anywhere else but right at her.

"Explain. Now."

Booth sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair as his mind traveled back 48 hours.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_Tuesday:_

With Brennan being so busy at the lab with the Maluku Project, she hadn't been able to find time lately to join him for lunch or dinner. After a particularly grueling morning of teaching and one of the longest, most boring meetings Booth had endured during his professional career, he found himself needing to blow off some steam, so he grabbed enough take-out for two and left.

By the time he strolled through the lab doors and waved at security he was much more relaxed than he had been all morning. A smile crossed his face as he let his free hand drift into his pocket, brushing past the dice, and the poker chip, and the Zippo to the small box he'd had on his person since the day after Jared's wedding. His fingers deftly opened the velvety lid, caressing the rings inside.

His mind drifted to how he could ask her, and what she would say, and if she would recognize the rings as her mother's. The fact that Max had entrusted them to him meant a lot but they talked about her mother almost as much as they talked about his father and with marriage already being a delicate subject with her he didn't want to risk upsetting the apple cart.

He closed the box and curled his hand instead around the note that had accompanied the rings. _"Take care of her,"_ was all it said and that's exactly what he intended on doing. Every day. For the rest of their lives.

A sound snapped him out of his musings and back to the present and as he came around the corner in the otherwise deserted hallway, his blood froze in his veins. Dr. Victor Arnold had Brennan boxed in against the wall and the low, controlled tenor of her voice made it clear the advances weren't welcome.

"You don't know what you're missing," the other scientist told her.

"I think she does," Booth set down the food and made his presence known, "and I think it's time for you to be on your way."

"You gonna shoot me, G-man?" Arnold sneered with open contempt at the sidearm Booth was making no effort to hide.

Booth stepped forward and Brennan slipped from her spot against the wall, holding up a hand to Booth, "It's not worth it."

He was about to back down when the other man made a sound like a whip and muttered something under his breath.

"You wanna share that with the rest of the class, _Vicky_?" Booth stepped around Brennan and glared.

"Booth!" she reprimanded.

"Yes, _Booth_," the other man mocked, "behave yourself."

"You are way outta line, Pal," Booth was barely keeping a lid on his temper.

"And you're way out of her league," Arnold shot back. "A woman of Dr. Brennan's caliber doesn't belong with a _cop_."

"And you think you are?" Booth raised an eyebrow.

"I'm wealthy, intelligent, and successful," boasted Victor. "I'm sure Dr. Brennan must know that the anthropological class differences between the two of you will be almost impossible to overcome for a successful, long-term relationship. The disparity is too great no matter how good the sex is right now."

With a haughty sniff the scientist moved around Brennan and up the hallway, deliberately brushing Booth back with his shoulder. Without a conscious thought, Booth's hand reached out and grabbed Victor's collar, picking him up off of the ground as he did so. Panicked, the smaller man clawed at Booth's arm, then took a swipe at his exposed neck.

"I don't think so," Booth shook him off, barely registering the contact. "You stay the hell away from Bones and if you're lucky I won't charge you with assaulting a federal officer. Got it?"

"Booth does not make idle threats," Brennan informed Victor when the other man refused to acknowledge anything.

Victor's head dipped ever so slightly and Booth relinquished his hold, walking casually over to where he'd left the food and then moving toward the relative safety of Brennan's office. He resisted the temptation to look over his shoulder and watch the other man retreat, content enough to feel Brennan following in his wake.

Neither one of them spoke as they entered her office and the silence continued well into their meal. He sighed, wondering if this was going to be one of those things where she was more upset with him for fighting over her than at the other guy for starting it.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked finally, too curious not to ask.

She shifted the food around its carton with her chopstick with a slow nod.

"Mad at me?" he guessed, resigning himself to being in the doghouse.

After a long look she sighed, "No, Booth. I- I recognize that were acting on my behalf."

"Did he hurt you?" Booth was on his feet and around her desk in a heartbeat. "Before I got there, I mean."

"I'm fine," she assured him, rising to place her hands on his chest to soothe him. "He was pressuring me to go out with him and was attempting to trap me against the wall, but he didn't touch me."

"This has happened before?" Booth tamped down on the ire rising back up inside of him as he studied her face.

"He's," she trailed off, then finished the thought, "persistent. Despite the fact that I've made it quite clear I'm content in my current relationship."

"Mmm, I like being with you too, Baby," he rested his forehead against hers. "You wanna talk about it some more?"

"I want to kiss you."

The air from her words hit his lips just before she closed the gap between them. He felt her small hands caress his back as their tongues danced gently.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

"Spare me the porno," Caroline halted him. She leaned back, brow furrowing, "This is exactly the kind of thing I should've known about before we went in there. Do you realize how bad this looks, Cherie?"

"I didn't kill him, Caroline, I swear!" protested Booth.

"Look," she laid a meaty hand on his shoulder, "I believe you or I wouldn't be here but we are swimming upstream on this one and your elite gang of squints is too close to you for me to let them handle evidence."

The door to the conference room sprang open, revealing an agitated Veers, "Are you two finished in here?"

"I have a right to consult privately with my client," Caroline said belligerently. "Now, are you going to charge this man or are we going to waste more of the taxpayers' money listening to you jaw on and on?"

"Is your client willing to sign a confession?" Veers asked, crossing his arms.

"Hell no," she shook her head.

"Than I have no choice but to charge him," Veers informed her.

"We'll see what the judge sets bail at and get you out as soon as possible," the prosecutor told Booth, then turned to Veers. "He's not a flight risk."

"Agreed, though there's still the issue of where Dr. Brennan is," he pointed out.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_Time was marked by the position of the sun and she scratched a mark in the dirt to help her keep track of the days. Saturday morning's paper came with her meager breakfast, announcing that Booth had been formally charged and her heart sunk. The only thing that gave her hope was that the article mentioned that Caroline Julian had taken his case. She wondered if their old colleagues had been gathered as well, but the paper offered no information in that regard._

_ Sunday passed. Then Monday. Then Tuesday._

_ It seemed if anything was going to happen, she was going to have to do it herself._


	39. Misery Loves Company

Horizon Line 39: Misery Loves Company

_Friday:_

"Now you just sit tight in here," Caroline ordered him as they returned to his holding cell. "I'll be back as soon as I can to get you out."

"What about me?" Max was on his feet as the cell door opened. "The only thing I did wrong was pick the lock at _his_ house," he jabbed a finger at Booth, "after he asked me to go there."

"I think your paperwork got lost in the shuffle," she told him with a tilt of her chin.

Max wasn't buying it for a second, "If Booth's not pressing charges, I'm free to go."

"You're free to go when we let you out, Cherie," she shook her head. "And right now I do _not_ need a loose cannon on my hands, so until Booth is free to babysit you and keep you from killing people, you're staying here."

Max pouted, but stood back so Booth could come back in. Caroline bade them both goodbye, promising she wouldn't be long, and walked out of the area briskly like a woman on the warpath.

"What took so long up there?" Max motioned for Booth to sit on the bed while he settled on the plastic chair.

The older man was surprised when Booth actually did sit down on the bed and he noticed the worry lines that were quickly etching themselves into the agent's face. The grim determination he'd left with earlier had been replaced by defeat.

Staring at a stain on the ceiling, Booth began describing the interrogation, starting with the eyewitness descriptions of the suspected shooter, and going on to explain how the DNA evidence against him looked bad.

"The most frustrating thing about it is I don't care," Booth blew out a long breath.

"About the murder charges sticking?" guessed Max.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I mean, I know I didn't kill Arnold, and Caroline's got all the squints looking over the physical evidence so eventually they'll figure out the truth. What really gets me though, is that Bones has been gone for well over twenty-four hours now and Veers wouldn't tell me anything about that investigation."

"If that lawyer lady friend of yours would just let me out you wouldn't have that problem," Max insisted. "I can't exactly put out feelers in here."

"Hey, if it was me I wouldn't let you out either," a small smirk flickered across his face as he met Max's eyes. "Nobody around here is gonna forget what you tend to do when you know your family's in danger."

"Hey, I'm reformed these days," the old con-man grinned.

"Except for the whole trying to gun down Heather Taffett thing," Booth pointed out. "And once you get out of here you know Caroline's gonna make you come home with me to keep an eye on you, right?"

Max did and since there wasn't much left to talk about they stayed put as the silence echoed around them, waiting for Caroline's return. Just as she predicted, it didn't take long and in addition to charging Booth to keep a close eye on Max, she let them know that the townhouse had already been gone over by a forensics team so, Booth was free to go back to there if he wanted to. The prospect of an hour-long drive after two long days didn't appeal to him at the moment, however.

At the holding cell desk, Booth signed the papers they gave him and picked up his personal belongings that had been confiscated from him when he'd arrived. Max caught sight of the ring box and gave Booth a sad smile but said nothing as they walked out into the night air.

"Booth!" came a voice filled with relief, but with a tinge of worry, just before Angela launched herself into his arms. "Are you alright? Is Caroline joking that they're charging you? Is _anybody_ looking for Bren?"

Booth accepted the tight hug and allowed her to finish pouring her questions out and answered them as best he could. Th others chimed in as well and he looked around at the small group that had gathered. Hodgins, Cam, Sweets, Daisy, Wendell, and of course Angela, looked a little rough around the edges, but it was clear as the snatches of overlapping conversation came to him that all of them were more worried about Brennan than the murder. The thought warmed his heart.

Hodgins quickly took over, ushering everyone into the waiting limo that would take them back to his mansion. He insisted that Booth and Max stay there for the time being and promised the rest of them good scotch and good food once they got there.

"Okay, okay, look," Booth held up his hands when they bombarded him with questions as soon as they were in the house. "I'm glad you're all here- I really am- and yes, we need to find Bones, but we're not going to be able to do nearly as much with this murder charge dangling over my head."

"Did you do it?" Hodgins challenged him. "Murder Arnold?"

Booth's eyes widened and he became defensive, "Of course not!"

Angela punched her husband in the shoulder with enough force to make him wince, "Ow! Hey, it's not completely outside the realm of possibility." Hodgins looked at Booth sympathetically, "No offense, man, but when it comes to Dr. B you'd do pretty much anything to protect her."

"Yeah, well I didn't do this," Booth groused, knowing that if Hodgins knew he'd kill to protect Brennan, it wouldn't take Veers long to ferret out that information too.

A dozen arguments came to mind, but he didn't feel like rehashing everything he'd been wrestling with since this whole mess started so he simply turned around and headed into the living room to find a place to sit. The rest followed in his wake and he listened with half an ear as they all sat down and began catching up on what they'd been doing for the last two and a half months since they'd gone their separate ways.

"You holding up okay, big man," Cam joined him, concern evident in her eyes.

He nodded and took a pull on his drink. The burning in his throat felt good for a second before he answered, "I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me," she warned him. "You put on a brave face, but I get that you're worried about her. We all are."

"I don't even know where to look," he admitted with a heavy sigh, "and even if I did, my hands are tied."

"So we focus on the murder," she said matter-of-factly.

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Well, in case you haven't heard," Cam smirked, "We're pretty good when it comes to murder. Tell me what happened on your end that day."

He repeated everything he'd already told Caroline and Veers. Cam had seen the report so she knew how compelling the circumstantial evidence against him was, plus she and a pathologist friend had examined the body to make sure the FBI coroner hadn't missed anything. They were still waiting for the official ballistics results to come in, but she'd seen enough shootings to know it had been a sniper round that pierced his skull.

"Hey, Cam," Booth muttered behind his tumbler, "not that I'm complaining, but what are the squinterns doing here? I thought they all scattered when Bones and I left?"

"They did," she nodded. "Daisy got sent back from Maluku yesterday."

"Annoy the natives too much?" he joked.

Cam shook her head, "Didn't Caroline tell you? With Brennan missing and Arnold dead, the project is at a standstill. To hear Daisy tell it, most of their major financial backers dropped them like a hot potato after the mysterious disappearance of their stateside leader and _very_ public execution of another key scientist hit the media. Even if Brennan came back tomorrow I'm not sure the project could be salvaged."

"Yeah," he grimaced, "they weren't finding nearly as much as they thought they would anyway. Bones is gonna be pissed, though. She's been chatting people up left and right all summer to get them to donate."

"We'll find her," Cam promised as Booth's eyes got a faraway look.

"I know," he said, then cleared the thick emotion from his throat and changed the subject. "Anyone else besides Wendell and Daisy coming back?"

"Clark might be," she informed him. "I talked with him earlier today and it sounds like he's not going to get the promotion in Chicago that he thought he was. Most of the others can't come back right away; including Mr. Nigel-Murray who's still out in California taping."

A small, rueful smile came to Booth's lips, "Yeah, Bones has been DVRing Jeopardy so she can watch him win. She figures he'll make it to a million pretty soon."

"He's not too far away from it," Cam grinned, shaking her head incredulously and consulting her watch. "You know, he's probably on right now."

There was a big enough flat-screen hung on one wall of the living room and Cam commandeered the remote and flipped it to the right channel. For the next half-hour, the eight of them took turns yelling out the answers and cheering for Vincent as he made the two highly-educated people beside him look like idiots.

"Eat your heart out, Ken Jennings!" Hodgins crowed as Final Jeopardy ended with Vincent's total winnings inching ever closer to the one million dollar mark.

A heated debate broke out between Sweets, Hodgins, Daisy, and Wendell as to whether any of them could do just as well on the game show.

"Dr. B could whip us all," Hodgins declared.

"Nah," Booth interjected with a small chuckle, "she gets too tripped up on the pop culture questions. She boasts that he's her grad student to anyone who will listen, though."

The smile died on his lips and the room sobered around him as they remembered what had brought them all back together in the first place. From out of nowhere, case file folders appeared and the group started poring over every last detail Caroline had provided them, hoping somewhere along the way, they would catch a break.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Wednesday:

_Between the cold air the whipped through the barn's slats at night, her lack of proper clothing, and her inability to sleep well on the rough hay bale, she could feel her immune system weakening. The first few days when her captor would bring her food, she would try and reason with him to at least provide a blanket for her to keep warm when the temperature dropped down into the forties, but he either didn't speak English or was immune to her logic._

_ Now she found herself coughing and congested, with a low-grade fever that only compounded the pain she still felt in her head. She was almost certain that she had a concussion, though that at least didn't seem to be anything serious. Her ankle had been rubbed raw by the shackle tethering her in place and she feared infection could set in if she couldn't keep it clean. Almost an entire day had been devoted to maneuvering her hands just right so that she could tear off a part of her shirt to cover the wound with. She'd been marginally successful, though now her wrists hurt where they'd pressed against the restraints._

_ As Wednesday morning dawned and her body ached with no hope of release, she began turning her mind over to how she could escape. There was no paper delivered with the stale bread and water __and peanuts she was given for breakfast that morning, just as there had been none yesterday and while the hopeful side of her wanted to believe that meant Booth had been cleared of the murder charge, the more practical side argued that the time had passed to sit idly by and wait for help that might never come if Booth wasn't cleared._

_ All musings to that end came to an abrupt halt as she heard footsteps approaching. Outside the barn someone stumbled and fell to the ground, then was set roughly on their feet. She fixed her eyes on the door, waiting for it to swing open. It did not._

_ Instead, the door adjacent to hers opened. The sound of feet shuffling over the dirt floor reached her ears, though something was different about them that her clouded mind couldn't quite categorize. She concluded that whoever the captive was in the other room, they had been gagged as the whimpers she heard were muffled as if by a cloth. _

_ The guard, as silent as ever, was only in the other room briefly before she heard the retreat of his familiar footfalls. She scrambled to her feet as her door was opened, the guard's masked head sweeping from side to side. Apparently, he was satisfied with whatever he saw and after taking away her plate from that morning, he tossed a dusty, rough horse blanket at her and left._

_ The chain she was attached to barely stretched long enough for her to walk over to and collect. It wasn't much, but it would be something, at least, tonight, and she wondered what had prompted the sudden burst of generosity. Another fit of sneezing seized her, followed by coughs that made her feel as if her lungs were being ripped from her chest and she pulled the blanket tightly around her and moved to her hay bale._

_ The fatigue and general malaise she'd been battling against for nearly a week threatened to overwhelm her and drag her into a much-needed sleep. Just as her eyes closed, however, a soft sob from the other room sounded._

_ "Hello?" she called as loudly as she could; hoping that whoever was on the other side of the wall could hear her, and perhaps could help her find a way to escape._


	40. Detail Disoriented

Chapter 40: Detail Disoriented

_Monday, August 2, 2010:_

The weekend passed far too quickly for Booth's liking with far too few results. After spending some time with Parker, Booth and Max had been quietly sending out feelers among Max's contacts to no avail. With his FBI agent status suspended indefinitely, he couldn't do anything though normal channels and it was driving him crazy.

"You know I don't have any other choice but to suspend you?" Hacker had asked him when he called on Saturday.

Booth did understand but he didn't like it one iota and had found a lame excuse to get off the phone with the man as soon as possible. First thing Monday morning he put in a call to Cullen's office. The Deputy Director was well aware of what was going on in his department and if Booth had still been a betting man, he would've laid odds that Veers wasn't on Cullen's top ten list right now. Of course Cullen couldn't do any more than Hacker about the suspension, but he was more sympathetic and he let booth know that he was personally overseeing the search for Brennan. The sentimental side of Sam Cullen could never forget what Brennan and her team had done for his daughter in her last days.

Two hours after they hung up, a very haggard looking Cullen showed up at the townhouse and without preamble, began asking questions, "Did you get to see the ballistics report from the shooting incident at the academy?" Booth shook his head and waited for Cullen to continue, "There was a print found on one of the spent cases that was recovered."

Booth felt like shrugging his shoulders and urging his boss to get to the point but he settled for a long look and the raising of a single eyebrow.

"It was yours," Cullen dropped the bombshell as quietly as possible. He held up a hand to stave Booth's noisy protest, "Now look, I know you two well enough to know that you wouldn't harm a hair on her head, but if Veers was still on this part of the case he'd be all over you."

"What else did you find?" Booth sighed, sensing Cullen was holding back on him.

"Well," he said hesitantly, "there's the issue of you not having an alibi for the morning she disappeared-"

"Because I was asleep," Booth muttered.

"- and the life insurance issue," Cullen went on as if Booth hadn't said anything.

"Life insurance?" Booth sat up straight, he brain scrambling to figure out what the other man was talking about.

Cullen tilted his head in confusion, "Didn't you know she upped her life insurance and named you as the sole beneficiary? Your signature's on the paperwork."

"I signed some medical power of attorney stuff a while back," he frowned. "Would it have been in with that?"

"It could have been if she didn't think you'd take the time to read all of the fine print," Cullen smirked. "My wife's done that to me before."

"I read the 'Sign Here' part," he admitted with a shrug. "The rest of it's all details."

"Well, in this case, the 'details' entitle you to five million dollars in the event of her death," Cullen handed him the copies of the paperwork he'd dug up.

Booth whistled low. Now he knew why Brennan slipped the papers in with other stuff he'd been signing. No way he would've agreed to that if he'd known what she was planning on giving him.

"It doesn't matter," he tried to convince himself and Cullen, then cleared his throat. "It means nothing because she's not dead. Did you find _anything_ that could tell us where she is?"

Cullen regarded him for a long moment, then grimaced, "We interviewed the neighbors. A few people remember seeing her running, but nobody saw anyone else with her. We checked the post office security camera logs since you said sometimes she stops for the mail and found her on the footage right around five-thirty. There was a cable bill addressed to your box that the post office told us was returned when they opened at eight. Charlie's working on a time line."

"Was that all they found?" Max asked from the dining room table where he was hard at work on his own project. "Just the one bill?"

"Why?" Cullen wanted to know. "Should they have found something else?"

"Maybe," Max told him. "I sent her something a couple of days ago, but it she might've gotten it already."

Booth shook his head, "We hadn't checked the mail in days. That's why I thought she could have stopped there in the first place."

A sad frown crossed Max's face but he covered it up quickly and went back to his work. Cullen stayed a few minutes longer before getting a call that he was needed back in DC. He promised to keep Booth in the loop as far as the search went, then left.

"Any luck?" Booth asked Max when they were alone again.

Max shook his head, "I'm running out of options here."

Booth was about to say something when his phone rang.

"You sitting down, Cherie?" Caroline asked.

Booth's heart rate shot up as his stomach dropped and his mouth went dry, "Where is she?"

"Oh, no," Caroline's tone became softer than he'd ever heard it before. "No, Cher, I don't have any news about her, just you."

"What?" his voice was lifeless as he sank down on a chair beside Max.

"They found a sniper rifle in a row of hedges a mile from where Dr. Arnold was shot," he could tell she wasn't amused.

"Lemme guess," he snorted, "my fingerprints are all over it?"

"Better than that," sarcasm dripped from the prosecutor. "It's one that you signed out from the rifle range the night before, and one the range has no record of you returning."

"Ballistics match?" he was almost afraid to ask.

"They're working on that end now but I wouldn't doubt for a second it'll be a match," she sounded just as defeated as he did.

"Motive, means, opportunity, and the physical evidence to back it up," Booth sighed in frustration. "Whoever this is thought of everything."

"Professionals," Max commented loud enough for Caroline to hear. "Professionals set this up, there's no way around it. I've seen stuff like this before and it takes more than just a random criminal trying to get back at somebody to pull off what they have so far.

"Planting fingerprints, altering records, hiring a shooter to look and dress like Booth, not to mention the precise timing of Tempe's kidnapping so that by the time any of us realized she was missing we couldn't do anything," he was shaking his head. "These are people who do this for a living. Kidnapping, killing, espionage, the whole nine yards."

"Don't sound so impressed," Booth's irritation level was rising exponentially because he knew Max was right.

"Hey," Caroline spoke up, "the best way to catch a criminal is to think like a criminal and we all know Max fits that bill so you'd best be taking notes." She paused then said finally, "I'm gonna start taking another look through your old case files, Booth. See if anyone you've pissed off in the past has the means to do this sort of thing."

"Let Sweet's do it," Booth suggested. "He'll know what to look for."

"And drive me crazy in the process," the prospect did not thrill her.

Booth's lip curved up in a half-smile, "I've got a soft spot for the kid. Give him a chance, Caroline. Even Bones says he's useful sometimes."

"You are full of soft spots, Seeley Booth," he could almost imagine her finger waggling on the other side of the line. "And you're lucky you're cute or I would've tossed you out of my office on you ass years ago."

"You know you love me, Caroline," he charmed her.

"Keep sweet talkin' me like that, Cher and I'll drop your case and start looking for your lady genius doctor so she can give that big ego of yours a reality check," she threatened.

"I miss her too," he told her soberly.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Wednesday night, August 4, 2010:

_In her fevered dream state she thrashed wildly under the blanket, sweat trickling down her brow. The nightmares about her loved ones dying still assaulted her relentlessly, but now she was slowly dying too. Sometimes of exposure, other times of starvation. At the moment it felt like she was in a tight coffin, pounding against the sides and top in a vain effort to free herself before the oxygen ran out._

_ In the distance she could hear a baby crying, but still her efforts were an exercise in futility. Just when it felt as if there was no oxygen left to breathe inside of the coffin, she awoke – sitting bolt upright on the hay bale and working herself free from the covers as quickly as she could._

_ As the adrenaline rush wore off, she realized that she could still hear the crying and her mind finally made the connection it had been struggling to since the other captive arrived: they'd kidnapped a child._

_ "Hello?" her voice sounded weak from lack of use to her own ears and she doubted if the child had heard her._

_ Scrambling quickly off of the hay bale she located the canteen still filled with water from earlier in the day and drank until she'd drained it. Afterward, she practiced speaking aloud until it sounded more normal than it first had and she tried again._

_ "Hello?" _

_ This time it was loud enough and clear enough to be heard and the crying came to an abrupt stop. She was surprised when in lieu of a verbal response, the wall that joined the two walls reverberated with a weak kick._

_ "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan," she told the child. "I'm being held against my will as well or I would free you."_

_ From the moment she said her name, the child began shouting something into their gag, far too muffled for her to hear._

_ "Wait," she told them, "I can't understand what you're saying no matter how loud you speak. Perhaps I should ask you a series of yes or no questions. If the answer is yes, reply by striking the wall once. If it is no, strike the wall twice. Do you understand?"_

_ There was a single tap on the wall._

_ "Are you a girl?" she guessed, based on the tenor of the cries._

_ There were two slightly forceful taps._

_ "A boy then," she nodded, suddenly unsure of what her next question should be. "Are you injured?"_

_ One tap._

_ "Are you actively bleeding?"_

_ Two taps._

_ "Good," she breathed a sigh of relief, despite knowing there wasn't anything she could do for him even if he was. "Are your hands bound?"_

_ A single tap came in response._

_ "Are your feet bound?" _

_ Two taps sounded._

_ "That's very good," she told him soothingly. "Both my hands and my feet are restrained, limiting my mobility, however, perhaps we can use your lack of foot restraints to our advantage." She noted that the last vestiges of sunlight were seeping through the slats of the barn and asked, "Are there any hooks that you can see on the wall that are close to your height?"_

_ There was a pregnant pause until finally a single tap was issued from a point further down the wall._

_ "Good," she felt her spirits raise slightly for the first time in days. "See if you can catch the fabric of your gag on the hook and pull it free."_

_ There was a good deal of shuffling and what sounded like muffled cries of pain for several minutes, until at last she heard a gasp of relief much clearer than anything else she'd heard since he'd arrived._

_ "Is your gag off?" she asked hopefully, her own aches and pains forgotten as she moved as close to the adjoining wall as she could. _

_The boy, however, was coughing fitfully for the time being. She heard him walk away from the wall and when the loud gulps sounded a few seconds later she presumed he'd been left a container of water as well._

_ When he finally spoke, his voice was as rough as hers had been, but the single word brought a tear to her eyes, "Bones?" _


	41. On Borrowed Time

Chapter 41: On Borrowed Time 

_Tuesday, August 3, 2010:_

"Dad," Parker gave a concerned look across the table, "are you going to jail?"

"Why do you ask that, Bub?" he tried to evade giving a direct answer right away, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I heard Mom say you're out on bail right now," he admitted between bites of ice cream. "Bail means that you paid money so you're allowed to be free, but pretty soon you'll have to go to a trial, then maybe to jail."

Booth sighed heavily. After his formal hearing that morning, he'd called Becca and begged to be allowed to spend the afternoon with his son, hoping that playing catch and hanging out at the diner would be a good distraction from the rest of his world; which was imploding on him.

Reluctantly he nodded his head, "Yeah, well, that's right, but I'm not going to jail because I didn't kill anyone. The squints are working on proving that."

"They will, Dad," Parker's smile was wide and confident, his eyes wholly trusting. "You would never kill anyone!"

Booth pushed the melting ice cream around in his dish and managed a convincing enough smile until Parker went back to his food. Guilt ate around the edges of his heart for the thousandth time as he wondered what Parker would think of him if he ever learned about Booth's past as a sniper. He knew, of course, that his dad had been a Ranger, but Booth had never taken the job description beyond that. He'd once told Sweets that he'd killed but never murdered, but he always feared that Parker wouldn't understand the difference. His son's respect was one thing he couldn't lose.

"Is that where Bones is?" Parker broke the silence. "Is she helping them prove you didn't kill anyone?"

"No," the truth popped out unchecked.

Parker regarded him curiously for a long second, "Than where is she? I haven't seen her since you got arrested. Is she sick?"

Still feeling the weight of his past pressing on him and having no desire to add more lies to the pile he shook his head and answered slowly, "She's gone."

"Gone where?" concern was etched in his face. "Is she coming back soon?"

"I hope so, Pal," the words sounded hopeless to his own ears. "Max, he's doing everything he can think of and the FBI's looking for her too, but we don't even know who took her so it's pretty hard to know where to look."

"Oh," the single syllable told Booth just how deeply his son felt for Brennan.

"Come 'ere," Booth pushed back his chair and spread his arms open.

Parker didn't need a second invitation and was around the table and in Booth's arms before the agent had time to brace himself. They were starting to draw attention, so as smoothly as he could, Booth stood both of them up, wrapped his arm firmly around Parker's shoulder, and walked them out of the restaurant after tossing a few bills on the table.

Father and son walked slowly down the street and gradually Parker disengaged himself from Booth's side.

"I love Bones," confessed the boy. "A lot."

Booth nodded, "Me too."

"Do you think she loves us?" he asked warily.

"What do you think?" Booth responded.

"She does," there was no hesitation in his answer now, only a small smile. "Yeah, I think she really does."

"I think so too," Booth nodded, his full response truncated as the phone on his hip went off.

It was a new one she'd just gotten for him and he fumbled with it, trying to remember which button answered the crazy thing. "Booth here," he managed just before it would've gone to voice mail. "Whoa, whoa," he told the man on the other side of the line, "slow down, Hodgins and speak English, not squint."

"Did they find Bones?" Parker asked eagerly from beside him.

Booth put a finger to his lips and shook his head, trying to make sense of what the bug man was trying to tell him. As usual, he was going a hundred miles an hour and Booth could barely make out what he was saying without Brennan there to translate.

"Look, lemme drop Parker back at home and I'll come over to your place, okay?" he managed to get in when Hodgins paused to take a breath.

He agreed and the two hung up.

"Do I _have_ to go home?" Parker looked pleadingly up at him.

Booth contemplated things for a brief moment and decided that it couldn't do any harm to bring him along as long as he had him back at Rebecca's by bedtime. Parker whooped and gave him a short, tight hug as they headed to the car. With his company car being taken after he'd been suspended, he'd been driving Brennan's Prius, and while he still thought it handled like a toy car, he had to admit the gas mileage was great.

"Wow! This place is huge!" exclaimed Parker as they pulled in the long drive that led to the main house on the Hodgins' estate. "Are those tennis courts? And a pool? Who lives here?"

"Dr. Hodgins," Booth informed him. "His parents owned a very big company and he inherited it when they died."

"Hmm," Parker considered that. "I think I'd rather have my parents around. Though the pool looks really awesome! Do you think we could go swimming later?"

"We'll see," Booth's shoulders shook as he tried to keep the amusement off of his face, though the dad part of him was really proud of his son for choosing to have people in his life over money.

They pulled up near the house and Booth let out a low whistle at the hot rod parked just outside one of the garages and was currently being waxed by one of the members of the staff.

"Nice ride," he chucked a thumb toward the hot rod when Hodgins answered the door.

"Thanks," Hodgins beamed. "It was kind of a wedding present from Angela's dad."

"Billy G has good taste," Booth grinned, motioning Parker to come in with them.

To no one's surprise, Angela greeted them in her warm, ebullient manner, then offered to take Parker to the media room and get a video game started for him on the big screen TV.

"So what's the big fuss about?" Booth asked the small crowd on hand.

Sweets, Daisy, Wendell, Cam, and Caroline were already waiting for him when he and Hodgins went in.

"What's up, Squint Squad?" he wanted know.

They looked happy. Daisy even more so than usual, and he wondered if that meant the first big piece of good news.

"Okay, so like I told you on the phone," Hodgins was practically giddy as he launched into the details that flew over Booth's head once again.

"English?" Booth looked at Cam, pleading for help.

"The coroner got time of death wrong on the initial autopsy," Cam's grin spread from ear to ear. "I noticed a few things that seemed off in the report, so we asked for a second opinion and I was right."

"So what does that mean for me?" Booth wanted to cut right to the trace, not sure he was up for any more bad news.

"What were you doing at 4:47 am Thursday morning?" Caroline asked him pointedly.

"Sleeping," he answered quickly, growing agitated as to why they weren't just getting to the point.

"Wrong answer," she shook her head forcefully, holding up a manilla folder. "Turns out that according to your phone records you got a call at 4:47am from-"

"Parker," Booth finished, a sense of relief flooding him for the first time in close to a week. "Yeah, he lost his glove and Bones helped me find it."

"Yep," she nodded, "and the GPS tracker in your phone puts you in the house then, which means you did not have enough time to go across town and kill Dr. Arnold at five."

"Wait," he pulled up short, looking at the smiling faces, "Arnold was shot. On a street full of people. At seven-thirty. How could the time of death be wrong?"

"The street wasn't full of people," Sweets shook his head, jabbing his finger at the file he was holding. Now, we've got three people who claim that they heard a shot and saw Arnold collapse in front of the stairs of his building. One of them was the doorman, who admitted he had his back turned at the time, another one gave the name and address of a man who's been dead for three years, and the third is a low level con-man who's mysteriously disappeared."

"What about the people who say they saw a guy like me running away?" he asked.

"Oh we think they did," Hodgins spoke up again. "They all check out. But he was probably running to be seen; you know, lend credibility and all of that."

"From what we can work out," Cam said, noting growing confusion on Booth's face, "Arnold was killed earlier, then propped up against the railing of the stairs near his building and shot. It was early enough that not many people were out, so they wouldn't suspect anything and it explains how the doorman could see Arnold's body fall after the shot was taken."

"So he was shot?" Booth made sure.

"Definitely," Cam nodded, "but when I had my friend from New York come down and examine it for us, he said that whatever blood was on the scene at the time had to be planted, because he'd already been dead for two and a half hours."

"They planted blood evidence?" Booth was stunned.

"Very convincingly," Caroline nodded, passing him her copies of the crime scene photos.

"Which is why we did a full body examination," Daisy was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Like Dr. Brennan always says-"

"We found a hole the size of a twelve-gauge needle," Cam cut Daisy off.

Booth realized what she meant and felt a little queasy, "So whoever did this-"

"Drained enough blood out of him and planted it at the scene, yes," Daisy chimed in. "Isn't that great?"

"Uh huh," Booth tried not to think about that too much. "But either way, I'm in the clear, right?"

The room went silent.

"Things still need to be verified by the prosecution side first," Cam was the one to break the silence.

"Which they will," Hodgins hurried to assure him.

"Cullen was furious when he found out how shoddy the forensic work was," Caroline spoke up. "Apparently the first report was just signed off without looking too deep into things because they guy wanted to get home to a baseball game. He's on performance review. But we still have to wait for everything to check out, you know how that goes."

He did because most times he was the one double and triple checking things to make sure they had the facts; though since teaming up with the Jeffersonian he hadn't had to do that in years. Even if he had to wait, it was still a step in the right direction, and the sooner his name was cleared the sooner he could kick the search for Brennan into high gear.

Booth asked to see the files of the witness reports and they all settled down throughout the living room. Like Sweets had said, the accounts were fairly generic; telling only that a man fitting Booth's general description – striped socks and all – had been spotted running away from the scene shortly after Arnold had been shot.

He looked at the ballistics report that matched the bullet to the rifle found in the hedges. Frowning at the pictures, he knew that it _was_ the one he'd used in class the day before, but he also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd checked it back in because the computer had been acting screwy on him all week and that day he'd sworn at it long and hard before it finally logged him on and let him check the rifle back in.

When he got to the file on the man who hadn't been seen since Thursday night, his eyes skimmed for anything that stuck out and when he found it, he swore, digging his phone out of his pocket as quickly as possible.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Wednesday, August 4, 2010:

_She and Parker had spent most of the night talking. He was injured, and from the pain he was describing she deduced that his collarbone had been broken in his initial struggle with his captors. She instructed him on how to position his arm so that the pain would be minimal. It seemed to help, and talking served to distract him from further pain_

_They talked about Booth, and Parker confirmed that the Angela, Hodgins, Cam, and Sweets were aiding in the investigation. He told her there were two other people helping with the case that he'd never met before: one who had talked hockey with his dad and another one who Parker said talked and smiled a lot. She wondered what Daisy was doing back from Maluku, but Parker had no insights in that regard._

_Finally, her eyes drooped and the conversation lagged and she could stay awake no longer. Stretching her chain to its furthest length, she was able to lay close enough to the wall to be able to reach out and grasp Parker's small fingers through the small gap between the barn's floor and the wall._

_Thursday morning when she awoke, their fingers were still linked, though she couldn't feel them very well and slipped from his grasp, moving her joined arms back and forth to return her circulation to normal. Her eyes adjusted to the morning light quickly enough and there was an almost physical pain in her chest as she scratched out the seventh tally mark on the floor. It had been a week since she'd been home. Since she'd been free. Since she'd seen Booth._

_ As she'd done so many times since the first day of her captivity, she retrieved the picture of her young self from her waistband and studied it. It was slightly more worn than it had been, but she was still warmed by the sight of the twirling dress and the smile on her face. Flipping it over on the other side, her mother's handwriting stared back at her, evoking memories that until this week she'd long since stowed away so as to avoid the pain._

_ "Bones?" there was a rustling on the other side of the wall as Parker rose up."Where are you?"_

_ "I'm here," she assured him. "Did you sleep well?"_

_ "I guess," he sounded tired all the same. "Whatcha doing?"_

_ She turned, smiling at the sight of a pair of eyes peering at her from the gap at floor level._

_ "Good morning, Parker," she waved her hands at him._

_ "Morning," he smiled back at her. "What's that?"_

_ He was looking at the photograph still clutched in her hand and she took it over and hesitantly laid it down on the floor so he could see it, "It's something my father sent me on the day I was taken."_

_ "Is that you, Bones?" he asked."When you were a little girl?"_

_ "Yes," she said softly._

_ "I like it," he declared. "It looks like fun. Well, sort of. Without the dress."_

_ They shared a laugh and for a moment it was so familiar to her, she could almost imagine it was under a completely different set of circumstances. She broke out into a fit of coughing, that got so violent her chest began to hurt._

_ Parker stopped laughing and became quiet, "Are you okay, Bones?"_

_ "I'm-" she coughed twice more, "-fine."_

_ He was contemplative, then asked, "When can we go home, Bones?"_

_ "I don't know, Parker," she told him honestly, "however, I was thinking that before our captor returns you should attempt to put your gag back in place so that he doesn't suspect we've been talking."_

_ "It's still on the hook," he informed her._

_ "Can you reach it?"_

_ His eyes disappeared from the gap and she could hear him moving around in the other room until finally she heard him say, "I think so."_

_ From outside of the barn she heard heavy, familiar footsteps approaching._

_ "Hurry, Parker!" she urged him._

_ She could hear him frantically trying to do so and grunting in pain. In her mind's eye she could envision him attempting to put the gag back on with his hands bound in front of him and his collarbone throbbing at every slight movement._

_ The door on her side swung open as it did every morning and she tried to appear calm and collected, "Good morning."_

_ The masked man said nothing, but began his daily ritual of exchanging her old dish for a new one and filling her canteen._

_ "You should let the child go," she told him, careful not to reveal the fact that she had discovered Parker's identity. "Whatever his parents have done to incur your employer's wrath I'm sure it's not enough to warrant risking his safety."_

_ The man continued his task without looking up at her once despite the constant stream of chatter she was now emitting. She kept on talking, determined to keep him in the room and buy Parker more time. It seemed to be working too as he had finished his work and still hadn't left._

_ He was now staring at her from behind the mask, and as she felt his gaze intensify, her words petered out until she stood there with him in an odd, silent, standoff. A full thirty seconds passed and she kept her expression as passive as possible, knowing that Parker's life could depend on it. Suddenly, he turned on his heel and left._

_ She waited until the lock clicked into place before releasing a sigh, then listened carefully to see what was taking place in the other room. Silence pervaded apart from the occasional shuffle of feet and the rustle of items as he set them down. She wanted nothing more than to tear off her restraints and take Parker as far away from the barn and the masked man as she could, but it was no use trying at the moment and she knew it._

_ He must not have found anything amiss as he departed shortly after entering Parker's side of the barn._

_ "Are you okay, Bones?" Parker spoke up no less than a minute later._

_ "I'm fine," she told him. "Did the man take your gag off again or did you?"_

_ "He did," Parker told her. "Probably 'cause he left some food for me."_

_ "Go ahead and eat," she told him._

_ If their captor had done so, she concluded it was only a matter of time before she and Parker would be separated and put in a more secure holding facility. Once there, the odds of their escaping successfully would drastically reduce. The time for waiting was over. _


	42. NotSoTrivial Pursuit

Chapter 42: Not-So-Trivial Pursuit

_Tuesday night, August 3, 2010:_

For the first time since he'd been arrested and found out that Brennan had been taken, Booth felt a thrill of hope surge through his system. It had been a long shot, but something about the low level con-man had triggered Booth's gut and he could sense they were close to their first big break. Tracking the man's priors hadn't been difficult and once he'd gotten permission from Cullen for Angela to access the FBI servers, it was even easier.

"What am I looking for, Booth?" the artist asked, fingers poised on her keyboard.

"Anything that stands out," he said.

"You think he was in on the set-up?" Jack sounded like a kid who'd hit the mother load at Halloween.

"Maybe," Booth shrugged, mentally trying to decide what direction they needed to look in.

"But Max said the guys who have Bren are pros," Angela said with a frown, " and no offense, Booth, but this guy here is small potatoes. I'm not sure he's what you're looking for."

"Can you cross-reference the cons he's pulled off with anyone Bones and I have worked with?" asked Booth, standing directly behind her and tapping a foot, his tongue darting in and out.

The room was silent save for the furious tapping of keys as the group waited. Angela's brow furrowed as she typed, at one point having to stop and wait for the computer to catch up with her.

"Okay, it's a long shot but check this out," she said finally. "Hank Solo, our missing con-man, got caught three years ago scamming this local crime boss, Bernie Hutt. Solo was running weed, PCP, illegal booze, you name it, then jacking the price up slightly and skimming the top off the profits. Hutt figures this out and calls the cops on him, but Solo gets wind that the cops are coming, and dumps his whole load-"

Sweets snorted and the group turned around to face him, "Oh, come on, _Solo_? _Hutt?_ And he dumps the load?" The shrink shook his head incredulously, "Did Hutt put a bounty on him too? Maybe send a bounty hunter after him to recoup his losses?"

Hodgins started snickering too and while Booth got the Star Wars connection he wasn't about to admit it in front of everyone, so instead he glared at the two younger men and cleared his throat, "What happened Ange? What's the connection to me and Bones?"

"Like I said," she hedged, "it's a bit of a stretch, but Hutt was in touch with a supplier named Prongs, who works for a guy named Rupert Everett, who is rumored to have ties to Anton Petrov, who is third in command for one-"

"Dimitri Vladov," Booth's voice was low and intense as he felt bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Who's Vladov?" Wendell was at a loss.

"Oh, just a Russian mobster Booth pissed off a while back," said Hodgins carelessly.

"Look, Booth, just because we can link it to him, doesn't mean anything," Angela said quickly. "It's a stretch at best."

"You said Solo dealt in booze, right?" Booth pressed. "So he could owe Vladov big time."

"Or it could be a coincidence," Sweets pointed out, sensing the tension mounting in the room. "Solo might've just been at the wrong place at the wrong time Thursday morning and gotten silenced by whoever took Dr. Brennan."

Booth shook his head, "It was Vladov. This whole thing was."

He swore under his breath, then whipped out his phone to call Cullen back. The Deputy Director listened carefully as Booth outlined the connection they discovered and its possible implications. While he agreed with Angela that it was a long shot, he'd also been in law enforcement enough to know that true coincidences were few and far between.

"Why target Dr. Brennan, though?" Cam asked when he'd hung up with Cullen. "Why not you, Seeley?"

"Misdirection," Max knew the answer to that one. "Make everyone look in one direction while you go in the other way. They made it look like someone was going after Tempe but really they just needed her out of the way so they could bring down Booth. Besides, Booth's like me," he gave the agent a knowing look. "The best way to hurt him is to hurt whoever he's closest to."

Booth fought a wave of nausea at the thought that this was his fault, then refocused on what was at stake, "Even if this clears me, he's still got Bones. Or somebody who works for him does. And none of this," he waved an arm at the sea of files and the whirring laptop, "tells us where he could have her."

At his hip, Booth's phone rang. It was Hacker, letting him know that the verification results were in and the charges against him were being dropped, given his alibi. Hacker also told him they were now focusing their efforts on Vladov; though Booth still wouldn't be allowed to officially investigate the case.

"Veers can't be happy about that," Booth smirked when he hung up.

"Dad," Parker yawned, ambling into the living room, "are you almost done?"

It was only then Booth noticed how late it had gotten. He called Rebecca and let her know that he was heading out right away with Parker, then said his goodbyes, making plans with the squints to meet at the diner the next morning and track down any other potential leads that could help them. The hearty handshakes and hugs he received, assuring him that they'd work just as hard to find Brennan as they had to clear him, warmed his heart.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot for Rebecca's apartment building, darkness had settled in and Parker was sound asleep in the back seat. As Booth got out and opened the rear passenger door he felt a chill go down his spine as the parking lot lights suddenly flickered, then winked out altogether.

"Parker," he whispered, shaking the boy awake as gently as he could. "Com'on, Bub, I need you to get up!"

The boy jerked awake, noting the fear in his father's voice and looking around to see what was going on.

"When I tell you," Booth kept his voice low as he stooped to fit his head in the Prius' doorway, "I want you to crawl out the other door and get in the building as quick as you can, do you understand?" He waited for Parker to nod before continuing, "I need you to promise that whatever happens to me, you'll keep running, okay? Just keep running and don't stop until you're safe inside."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, tough guy," Booth gave him a smile, conjuring confidence he didn't feel. "You just go to Mom and tell her what happened. Give her this," he handed Parker his cell phone, "She'll know who to call." The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and he knew the net was closing tight around them.

He turned away from Parker and peered out into the darkness. Without the lights, he could barely make out anything, and the shadows from neighboring lights were far too tricky for him to get a handle on things.

"What do you want from me?" he called out.

A movement to his left made him start, but he didn't are risk a glance, and sure enough, the first attacker struck from his right. Booth was ready for him, and connected solidly to the man's jaw before elbowing his ribs and kneeing him in the groin for good measure. Now more adjusted to the darkness he could make out two, possibly three others moving toward him, but before he could decide which was the bigger threat, a fist collided with his temple.

"Run!" he told Parker as he tried to shake off the hit and ignore the pain. Adrenaline fueled by the knowledge that his son was in danger enabled him to sweep his attacker's legs out from under him, sending the man crashing to the pavement.

He heard the click of the passenger door on the other side of the car opening and the thud of Parker's shoes hit the asphalt just before a third attacker came at Booth. Unlike the previous two, this one was equal to Booth in height and ability. They danced around each other, absorbing the small hits and trying to get the big ones in.

From somewhere across the parking lot he heard Parker cry out in pain and he decked the man in front of him, dropping him like a stone, then rushing off to save his son. His senses were on high alert as his legs churned under him, but he didn't see the flash of light until the tazer grips found him, jolting his body with electricity and sending it twitching and helpless to the pavement below.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Thursday Morning, August 5, 2010:

_"I dropped the phone," Parker noted dolefully as he finished recounting his tale. _

_"Mine was taken from me," she consoled him. "I doubt they would've allowed you to keep it anyway."_

_"Yeah," he sighed heavily, "but maybe Dad wouldn't feel so bad if he knew I had a phone. Do you think they took him too, Bones?"_

_She shook her head, "I'm not certain, however, it would seem that if whoever took us wants to hurt Booth they would leave him unharmed, but unable to locate us."_

_"Dr. Hodgins told my dad that they would get a guy named Vlad-something," Parker said thoughtfully. "Do you think that's who took us?"_

_"Vladov," she breathed, her mind finishing the name instantaneously, though she had to sift through her memories to determine where she'd heard it before. The answer brought her to her feet, "Parker, we need to leave. Do you see anything that might enable you to move over to my side of the barn?"_

_The silence was deafening as she waited for him to answer, her breath coming in shallow gulps as her heart rate accelerated. Every second that slipped away was precious and she was already scanning her side of the barn to find anything that could aid in the escape attempt. The sound of Parker's foot pounding against a rotted out board in the wall at the back corner of the barn brought her back to the present and she encouraged him in his actions._

_A minute later the wall had been breached and Parker came into view for the first time. Tears flowed unchecked down both of their cheeks as he flew to her in the closest approximation of a hug that either one of them could achieve at the moment._

_"That rusty nail over there," she finally composed herself and nodded to her left, "I need you to bring it over to me right away."_

_It wasn't the easiest of tasks, given his collar bone, but fortunately his hands had been bound in front of him so he was able to get the nail and bring it back eventually. Not wasting the time to explain herself, she took the nail from him and began rubbing it against the twine that bound him. It took far longer than she wanted it to, but finally the twine gave way and Parker's hands were released._

_"Ow," she heard him exclaim, rubbing at his wrists, where a thin trickle of blood was dripping down._

_In her haste to finish her task, the nail had slipped and grazed his skin, opening up a slight wound. She doubted the boy would know if he'd had a tetanus shot recently or not, so she said nothing, but kept an eye on him for signs that an infection was setting in. Meanwhile, there was the not so small task of releasing her own shackles that remained to be done. Even in perfect health, Parker couldn't have pulled up the iron stake from the ground._

_Because Brennan had been so effectively trapped, her side of the barn had not been secured as __tightly as Parker's had. They discovered another rotting board, this time along one of the outside walls, and once again, Parker was able to kick it free. A cool breeze whipped in from the outside and Brennan suppressed a shudder._

_"There's a shed right next door," Parker told her. "Maybe I could find something in there?"_

_She weighed her options silently and while she would never forgive herself if something happened to Booth's son under her watch, she grudgingly admitted it was the only logical course of action. With a nod of her head, she watched him nod back, then duck through the hole and scurry outside._

_A host of likely scenarios, none with pleasant endings, flooded her mind once his sneakers disappeared from her line of vision. Of course there were other things to worry about, starting with the fact that she had no clue where they were being held, but none of that seemed to matter as she held her breath waiting for Parker's return._

_Her heart skipped a beat when she her noise outside, but the noise was followed by the boy himself, grinning triumphantly at his find as he lugged it toward her. The wire cutters made quick work of the chain connecting her ankles to the iron post, though it took both of them to get the correct amount of leverage necessary. Soon after, the chain between the two ankle shackles was also cut._

_The chain connecting her wrists was another matter. By this time she could see how much pain Parker was putting himself through for them and she knew he wouldn't have the strength to cut it, nor would she be able to assist him. _

_"We need to go," she told him firmly._

_"But your hands..." he protested._

_"I was given enough slack to be able to eat so I should be able to preform simple tasks," she broke off in a fit of coughs, ending with her going over to a corner and vomiting the excess phlegm. When she returned to where he was standing she looked at him intensely, "We need to leave now." _

_He nodded, but she could feel his eyes trained on her as she made her way slowly to the escape route at the back of the barn. Her legs were shaking underneath of her from disuse, but she pressed forward, determined not to waste any more time._

_"There's a car in where the tools are," he told her. "It's really old, though."_

_"Show me," she spoke quickly._

_Following his lead, they crept along a line of hedges connecting the barn to the tool shed. The car was indeed an older model and the body was riddled with rust but it seemed intact and that was all that mattered._

_A noise sent her whirling around and she found the masked man standing in the tool shed's doorway. He said nothing, but came at her with a singular purpose around the obstacles that separated them. She stepped in front of Parker, relieved to note that the man was unarmed as he moved closer. _

_"Let the boy go," she demanded in Russian when almost no space separated them. _

_The man's head jerked up in surprise, giving her the momentary distraction she needed to swing her arms around and hit him in the temple with the heavy shackles still attached to her wrists. He fell to the floor, scattering tools as he went and catching the back of his head on a nearby workbench._

_"Is he dead?" Parker asked nervously from behind her._

_"No," she shook her head, her hands closing on a key ring. "We may not have much time before he regains consciousness." _

_With his hands shaking the entire time, Parker found the key to her shackles and released her. She searched the man one last time, found what she was looking for, and nodded for Parker to follow her through the shed's front door._

_Out in the driveway, she spotted the car that had most likely driven them both to wherever they currently were. Making sure Parker was close beside her, she darted out toward it. Startled voices yelled as they spotted the two runaways and bullets began flying through the air._

_They made it around to the driver's side of the car and she flung the door open, shoving Parker in ahead of her. Jamming the key in the ignition, she started the car and backed out of the driveway as quickly as she dared. A bullet pinged off the frame and she screamed for Parker to get down on the floor of the car._

_As she whipped the car around, chose a direction, and pressed on the accelerator, she heard the unmistakeable rumble of motorcycles roaring to life. They may have escaped, she thought as they hurtled down the road, pursued by at least three motorcycles, but they were by no means free. _


	43. Crash Into Me

Chapter 43: Crash Into Me

The first thing he was aware of was the pounding headache that beat so mercilessly against his skull he was forced to close his newly opened eyes to shut out the pain.

"Parker!" the thought of his son was enough to spike his adrenaline and clear the haze as he forced himself to sit up and open his eyes again.

"Whoa there, big guy," firm hands gripped his shoulders and forced him back down.

"Where's Parker?" demanded the impatient man, his voice gaining strength. "What have you done to him?"

"Seeley, it's me," the two blurred faces coalesced into one clear, familiar one. "Are you alright?" She turned to someone else, "Maybe he hit his head harder than we thought."

"I'm fine, Cam," he shook his head to clear the last of the cobwebs. "What happened? Where's Parker?"

Her silence spoke volumes.

He stood shakily to his feet and took in his surroundings for the first time. Rebecca's apartment. Which meant the nightmare of what he remembered happening in the parking lot was real and Parker was gone. On one side of the room Rebecca clung to Drew, her face streaked with tear tracks, while on the other side a knot of squints huddled close together, not faring much better.

"Becca," a thousand regrets made his voice sound heavy to his ears.

He was at her side, desperately seeking the right words when she separated from Drew and laid a hand on Booth's forearm.

"You'll find him," she said with utter conviction.

His heart sank, his own confidence wavering in light of the two people Vladov had now managed to take from him. A murmur from the other side of the room caught his attention.

"What do you have for me?" he whirled around, asking the question more out of habit than anything else.

He wouldn't have believed their chorused "nothing" anyway, but their body language screamed they were hiding something from him. Sweets looked to Angela, who looked to Hodgins, whose eyes flicked from Cam to Booth and then back again.

Cam rolled her eyes at the burden falling to her, "Rebecca found you unconscious in the parking lot when you didn't show up with Parker and she called me-"

"-and you put out the bat signal to the others, Cam, I got that much worked out on my own,"

Booth felt himself treading the razor-thin line between maintaining and losing control. "Skip to whatever it is you squints aren't telling me. Maybe start with why I feel like there's an elephant tap-dancing on my head?"

"When you came to the first time," Cam started cautiously, "you were pretty much-"

"Out of control," Sweets filled in the blanks when the pathologist paused.

"Upset," Cam glared at the kid and kept going. "That tazer must've been set pretty high and you almost attacked me when you woke up. None of us could talk you down so," she gave a little shrug.

"You knocked me out?" Booth stared at them all incredulously. "But Parker-"

"Was taken," Cam nodded grimly. "There wasn't anything we could do about that and you weren't in any condition to go racing off in the middle of the night. You should've been taken to a hospital, but instead we dragged you up here and called in Cullen. He let us supervise the scene cleanup and left."

"Wait," he held up a hand, looking out the window and noticing the sunlight all of a sudden, "what day is it?"

"It's Wednesday morning," Cam told him calmly. "Caroline and Cullen are doing everything they can-"

"I'm going too," Booth started to shove past them to the door.

"You can't," Sweets piped up and Booth shot him a death glare. "You haven't been cleared for duty."

"Plus the whole murder charge thing," Hodgins added, yelping right afterward as his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

Before anyone could say anything more, there was a knock at the front door and Caroline was let in. Taking one look at Booth she let out a long sigh and sat down on the couch, prompting everyone around her to hunt for a seat too. For a moment, she said nothing, then slowly she filled then in on what had been discovered thus far.

The FBI and local police had spent the better part of the night scouring the area for any sign of Parker or his abductors. Like those who had taken Brennan, they had known what they were doing and had parked the getaway car in one of the lot's blind spots. Security footage had caught them on tape taking Booth down and leading a fallen Parker away, but it was grainy at best and they'd been dressed in all black and wearing masks. An Amber Alert had been sent out, but so far had yielded no results.

"So we have no leads?" Booth sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nothing at all to tell us where Parker and Bones are?"

There was a guarded look in Caroline's eyes at first, then she shook her head and dug through the bag she'd brought in with her and handed Booth something. A fresh wave of frustration and anguish hit him as the weight of his phone fell in his palm.

"Parker must have dropped it when he was running," she told him. "We looked at it up one side and down the other and couldn't come up with anything so my guess is they just let it be."

He turned the phone over and over in his hand, wondering where his boy was by now and if he'd ever see him again. Caroline cleared her throat and he looked up to find her holding another phone, this one inside of a marked evidence bag.

"This was found next to you," she told him.

He didn't have to look twice to know whose phone that was and he all but snatched it from her when she proffered it. As the screen whirred to life his breath caught at the sight of the three of them smiling in the phone's background picture.

"The techs found something on it," Caroline admitted reluctantly. "In the saved photos."

Booth's fingers flew clumsily, struggling to get the phone to respond through the plastic and pushing his worst fears aside as he clicked on the picture album folder. There were only two additional pictures: one of her laying down, dressed in nothing but her running togs, the other a close-up of her ankle, displaying the shackle and chain for all to see. When he couldn't bear the sight any longer he toggled back and brought up her text messages, proving that the kidnapper, indeed, had made the misleading texts from Brennan's phone when they took her.

"Were there any prints?" he knew what the answer was going to be but couldn't help asking anyway.

Caroline shook her head and Booth handed the phone over to Hodgins, asking, "Can you get anything from this?"

"The techs couldn't-"

"Not what I asked," Booth shook his head. "Is there anything _you_ can get from this? Something the techs might've missed?"

Hodgins pulled a pair of latex gloves from his back pocket and slid them on before gently removing the phone from the evidence bag. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he scoured the surface of the phone for anything that didn't belong.

What seemed like an eternity later, he yelled, "Gotcha!"

"What?" Booth was instantly on his feet and at Hodgins' side.

"That," the bug man pointed to a speck of black on the phone, "shouldn't be there and that," he pointed to something along the side casing, "shouldn't either."

"What does it mean?" Booth wanted to know.

"Well, first, my guess is the pictures confirm that they guys who took Dr. B and Parker are one and the same, and the particulates," he waved his hand over the phone, "tell me we may've gotten lucky."

"How?" Booth squinted, but saw nothing.

"That," Hodgins pointed to the casing again, "is a small clump of soil, which means our guy just might have dropped it in the dirt."

"Where they have Bones?" hope flared in Booth's chest.

"Maybe," Hodgins was cautiously optimistic, "I don't want to jump to conclusions. But it's something at least."

Hodgins carefully replaced the cell phone in the bag and handed it back to the prosecutor, who wondered out loud where they were going to find someone impartial to do the analysis.

"Judy!" exclaimed Booth, receiving several puzzled looks in return. "Judy Riker, from the Maluku team. Bones told me she's a bug and slime expert like Hodgins."

"And a good one too," Hodgins put in.

"I'll see what Cullen thinks," Caroline promised. "Technically she's their boss too, but we just might be able to squeeze around that since they haven't been together long and Dr. Riker wouldn't stand to gain or lose anything by helping us."

With a brief nod goodbye, Caroline bustled out of the apartment to find Cullen. The apartment was abuzz with conversation as the group discussed all that the new clues may or may not mean. Eventually, though, there was nothing left to discuss, so they disbanded until they heard again from Caroline.

The next twenty-four hours passed far too slowly for Booth's preference, though at the same time he felt like the tide was finally turning. After what seemed like hours of debate back and forth between Cullen, the District DA, and Caroline, it was finally determined that the group of scientists from the defunct Maluku Project, were objective enough to review the evidence recovered from Brennan's phone and testify in court when the time came.

Even better, the murder charges against Booth had been dropped and the paperwork had begun for him to be officially reinstated; though Cullen was still keeping him at an arm's length from the official investigations surrounding Arnold, Brennan, and Parker. Chris had taken over his classes at the Academy and Booth was still waiting for everything to clear so that he could get back to teaching.

He and Max were sitting down to go over everything they had and pretend that neither of them knew an entire week had passed without them finding Brennan, when Booth's phone rang.

"Hello?" he frowned at the unfamiliar number on the screen.

"Dad!" the connection wasn't the greatest but Booth would know his son's voice anywhere.

"Parker!" His eyes widened in shock, "Parker, where are you?"

Static bubbled across the line and Booth pressed the phone to his ear, desperate to pick up anything and almost sure he was hearing things when Parker said, "Bones doesn't know."

"She's with you?" he could barely believe what he was hearing. "Are you safe?"

The static cleared, but in it's place, Booth heard the low rumble of a car's engine and popping noises in the background.

"We got the car," Parker told him, then cried out in pain.

"Parker!" Booth's heart stopped as he heard the phone tumble to the floor.

Brennan's voice sounded with more than a hint of concern, but it was several long seconds later before Parker fumbled with the phone and started talking again.

"I'm okay, Bones," Parker sounded far from okay to Booth's ear, but then he was saying. "Dad, Bones says we're on Mountain View Parkway, but she still doesn't know where."

"It's okay, Bub, just stay on the line," he encouraged Parker. "She pass something soon, I'm sure. Are you okay? Is Bones okay?"

"I think Bones is sick," the little boy's words were backed up by the unmistakeable sound of coughing in the background. His voice picked up in intensity, "Dad, I gotta go, they shooting at us again."

"No, wait!" he cried just as he heard Brennan yell, "Parker, get down!"

There was a rustling of fabric and the popping noise filled his ear again just as the line went dead. Booth looked down at his phone as if it had betrayed him and swore loudly, tempted the throw it into the nearest wall.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_Brennan spotted the sign she'd been looking for as the motorcycles behind her picked up speed and once again began firing at them. Torn between yelling out their location and the need to keep her charge safe, she made her decision in an instant._

_ "Parker, get down!" she screamed, then quickly added. "We're in Canada!"_

_ They boy reacted right away by crouching back on the floor, however, and she feared her last words didn't get through. Right now, though, she didn't have the luxury of splitting her focus as she once again focused on avoiding the bullets being sprayed all around the car and keeping them safe. She was on both sides of the road, keeping an eye out for any oncoming traffic while watching her side and rear-view mirrors as well._

_ According to the odometer, they were twenty miles from the farm where they'd been held, but she knew instinctively it wasn't far enough. The area was rural and she'd seen no sign of law enforcement anywhere. She heard a bullet ping as it hit the car but nothing happened so she kept __going. _

_ On the floor, Parker was huddled into the tightest ball he could manage with his injured collarbone, the phone she'd stolen from their masked captor snapped closed and abandoned on the passenger's seat. It had taken a while for the phone to get a usable signal and she could only hope someone could back-track the call from there. The fact that it had been Booth who answered the phone gave her hope that the murder charges had finally been dropped so that he could be free to search for them and bring them safely home._

_ Another road sign came into view; this time informing her that there was an exit coming up. Trans Canada Highway 2 would eventually get her to the border, she knew, though how long that would take would be dependent on where they came out onto it. It would be a risk slowing down for the exit, but provided they survived that, they would be on one of the most widely-traveled routes in Canada and increased traffic could only serve to protect them at this juncture._

_ She waited until the last minute to shift into the exit lane so as to mask her intentions, and took the steep turn as fast as she could without fearing the car would flip over. The men on their motorcycles continued the pursuit, but she breathed her first sigh of relief as they followed the signs and merged with a heavier flow of traffic. As she'd hoped, the shooting stopped, though they still kept up with her._

_ An hour later, the traffic was heavier still as they approached the border. Parker was sitting on the seat again, buckled in and frustrated to find that the phone's battery had died. As she'd been doing, Brennan wove smoothly in and out of traffic, careful to stay ahead of the motorcycles without putting any of the other motorists in danger._

_ "The border!" Parker exclaimed, pointing to the large exit sign ahead. "We're almost there, Bones!"_

_ She nodded. She only had a quarter tank of gas left according to her gauge and should she keep going they would likely be taken over soon. On the other hand, there was no guarantee that they would be allowed to cross into the United States._

_ "ID, please," the man at the border station requested in a thick French accent._

_ In her rear view mirror, she could see the motorcycles on either side of her, and behind her, waiting to pounce as soon as the opportunity presented itself._

_ "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan, and this is Parker Booth," she said as quickly as she could. "We were brought into your country illegally and are trying to get home."_

_ The man looked doubtful and gestured at Parker, "The boy is your son?"_

_ "No," she shook her head, panic growing, then made her decision. "Please, take the boy! His father is FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth in Washington, DC. The men who held us captive are right behind me and will take him again."_

_ The man still didn't seem to understand the urgency, even as she told Parker to get out of the car and go with the officer._

_ "No, Bones!" he protested._

_ "You have to, Parker," she told him. "Neither one of us will be free if you stay with me. Tell your father I'm fine and let him know what you saw."_

_ "Bones."_

_ "Here," she grabbed a bottle from the cup-holder and shoved it at him, "have them test this for DNA. Can you do that? Can you help in that way?" He nodded and she smiled, "Good. Don't forget to tell your father to get you a tetanus booster as soon as possible." She looked up at the border officer, "His collarbone is broken and will need to be attended to."_

_ Ignoring the pleading in Parker's eyes, and seeing that she had only managed to confuse the officer rather than clarify things, she pushed the boy the rest of the way out of the car, waved to him one last time, and reluctantly eased her way in with the rest of the cars being forced to turn around._

_ No sooner was she back on the freeway, then there was a loud bang as a waiting truck rammed her, sending the car spinning off of the road and wildly out of control._


	44. Whisper Down the Lane

Chapter 44: Whisper Down the Lane

_Thursday, August 5, 2010:_

Sam Cullen was not having a good day. Of course, he hadn't been having a good week so this was par for the course. He tried to tell himself that it was worth it – all of the years of sacrifice he'd given to his country in pursuit of justice – but today, he only felt weary. Jobs like this, with stress levels like this were for the young and idealistic; two things he'd slowly faded from as the years went on.

"Director?" his secretary's voice was as perky as always when he picked up his office phone. "I have a man on the line who says he's part of the Canadian Border Patrol. He's asking for Agent Booth, Sir. What do I tell him?"

"Put him through," Cullen sighed. Despite being one of the best agents out there, Booth was also caused Cullen the biggest headaches and there were moments the Director wondered if it was worth everything put up with. "Cullen here," he answered when the other line was connected.

"No, no," a man with a thick French accent replied. "I'm looking for Special Agent Seeley Booth from the Washington, DC, field office."

"This is his boss," Cullen assured the man. "You can pass along your message through me."

"Dad, it's me!" Cullen heard a boy yell faintly in the background.

"Who's that?" the Director sat up straight in his chair, suddenly fully engaged in the conversation. "Who's that boy?"

"The woman who left him with me claimed him to be Special Agent Seeley Booth's son," the other man's English faltered slightly as he rushed the words out. "That is why I called your office. To verify his identity. May I talk with Agent Booth now?"

"This is Deputy Director Sam Cullen," he put all the force of his title into his tone. "Parker Booth was taken from his family two days ago and if you think you have him there, I need to speak with him right away."

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

While Sam Cullen wrestled with the fact that he just might not be as cut out for the job as he thought he was anymore, Caroline Julian was ruing the day she chose public service over a nice, cushy private practice. After all these years she still couldn't pinpoint what it was about Seeley Joseph Booth that drew her to him like a magnet, though she knew sure as hell that if the age gap was just a smidgen closer she would've ridden that train years ago.

She shook her head clear of the thoughts and started sorting through the large pile of work that had piled up while she was out playing defense lawyer. Not that she didn't mind if it got those two back in town and solving crimes like they should've been for the past three months, but it was still a lot of work. Her phone rang as she downed her third cup of coffee and had it been anyone else's number on the Caller ID, she would've ignored them.

"What is it, Sam, I'm a busy lady?" she asked.

"I've got a man calling from Canada telling me that a boy claiming to be Parker Booth is in his office at the border," Cullen cut right to the chase. "Their network is down up there right now so I can't get him a copy of Parker's picture and I don't know him well enough to make the ID."

"Do you think it's him?" Caroline's thoughts went immediately to Booth and the defeat she'd seen in his eyes yesterday morning.

"I don't know," frustration bled through the line. "It seems like it, but I'm at a loss. I don't want to miss the real thing but I can't risk telling Booth only to have this be the wrong kid."

"That would not be good," Caroline agreed.

The problem was, Booth was such a private man, hardly anyone she knew of outside of Dr. Brennan's gaggle of scientists at the Jeffersonian had met Parker in person. Oh, sure, she'd seen his picture on his dad's desk grow up as the years marched by, but she'd never met him and wouldn't know his voice from Adam. She was about to suggest Sam try calling Cam Saroyan when another name struck her as a possibility.

"I'm not your gal this time, Sam," she told him, "but I just might know who can help."

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

The man on the couch asked himself for the hundredth time that day what he was doing here. His secret was something that wasn't talked about in an organization like the FBI, no matter how popular opinion was shifting in the outside world. The fact that he had kids older than the one sitting in front of him didn't help the matter and he wondered if he was simply wasting both his time and the shrink's.

Sweets cleared his throat but said nothing as if waiting for him to make the first move. Before either one of them broke the silence, the nice secretary who'd greeted him earlier popped her head through the doorway, announcing that the young man had an urgent call from the deputy director that wouldn't wait. The man on the couch nodded for Sweets to go, accepting the profuse apologies that followed.

As the door closed, he sagged back on the couch in relief. Maybe in a few months he'd be brave enough to remove the mask he'd hidden under for so long and actually tell the kid shrink about his secret desires that involved trading his Doc Martins for stilettos, but not now. Not today.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Sweets tried his best to keep the irritation out of his voice at having his session interrupted as he picked up the phone.

"Do you know Parker Booth personally?" Director Cullen asked without preamble.

"Yes," Sweets' head bobbed.

"Enough to ID him over the phone?" Cullen pressed.

Sweets assured him he could and listened with gathering interest as the other man briefed him on the situation in Canada.

"Parker?" Sweets heard Cullen open the third line. "I've got Dr. Sweets here now, can you talk to him for me?"

"Oh sure," a voice that was unmistakeably Parker Booth's answered. "He was my babysitter one time, huh Dr. Sweets?"

"Uh, yeah," Sweets cleared his throat. "Are you okay, Parker?"

"Sort of," the boy hedged, "but I need to talk to my dad so that he can go get Bones again. Where is he?"

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Booth tried calling Parker back but at first no one answered and then the calls started going right to a standard voice-mail message, so he gave up and dragged Max in the car with him as they sped off to DC.

"You said Tempe was with him?" Max broke into Booth's thoughts as they drove.

"Yeah," Booth blew out a long breath, suddenly reminded that he wasn't the only parent whose child was missing. "She must've freed both of them."

"She's a fighter," Max reminded them both. "And she'll keep him safe no matter what the cost."

Booth nodded grimly, "I know. She didn't know where she was, though."

"Your FBI boys should be able to figure out what cell tower the call pinged off of, right?" he asked hopefully.

Booth couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that himself, but he wasted no time dialing Charlie up and asking him to run a trace on it. The ever-loyal agent promised he would and that he'd get back to Booth as soon as he got an answer.

"It's a disposable phone," Charlie informed him nearly an hour later as Booth hit the outskirts of DC. "I pulled the whole call history, but the one to your phone pinged off a tower in Canada, not too far from the Maine border."

Booth thanked the man profusely, ordering him to keep the record so they could pass it along to Cullen. He ordered Max to stay put in the car while he went to Cullen, but the older man refused and Booth knew there'd be no talking him out of it.

Far too many minutes later for Booth's taste, he and Max were cleared through security and on their way to Cullen's office. They breezed past the director's secretary, neither one caring what Cullen was doing on the other side of the door.

"They're in Canada!" exclaimed Booth, noting that Cullen was on the phone.

Cullen's eyebrows shot up to his forehead at the sight of the two men, but instead of shooing them off, he gestured them in and held the phone out to Booth. Putting it to his ear, he heard his son chattering to Sweets.

"I'm at the Hoover, buddy," he couldn't help but answer Parker's question.

"Dad!" shouted Parkers so loud Booth's ears hurt. "Dad, you gotta come up here now and get Bones before the bad guys get her again."

"She's not with you?" the panic that had been settling reared again.

He listened as Parker relayed the tale, wondering what kind of luck they'd had to get the most boneheaded border guard in Canada. His heart swelled with love for her at what she'd sacrificed and risked for his son, all the while praying he could get to her in time. Finally, he let Parker go when he realized how much pain the boy was still in. Arrangements were made for Parker to go to the nearby hospital under heavy guard and Booth promised he'd be there as soon as he could.

The second they hung up, Booth was on his cell to a detective buddy of his up in Canada that he and Parker had gone camping with a few times. Ryan promised to meet Parker at the hospital and keep watch over him until Booth could get there. He also promised Booth he'd put out feelers for any signs of Brennan or of Vladov's gang.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

A phone rang in the man's private study and he let it ring several times before picking it up.

"We've got her, Sir," the voice on the other end told him in Russian.

"Let's hope so," the man responded in kind. "For your sake."


	45. Perpetual Motion

Chapter 45: Perpetual Motion

She saw the truck in her peripheral vision as it barreled toward her and did her best not to brace for impact. At the last possible second she jammed her foot on the accelerator as hard as she could, letting go at the moment of impact and moving her foot to the brake pedal. The force was still strong enough to send the car spinning wildly for a few long seconds, but the damage was contained to the rear quarter panel on the driver's side and she was able to regain control and limp out into traffic again before her pursuers could close in on her.

In her rear-view mirror she saw a plume of white smoke rising from the truck's hood, then gasped slightly as she recognized the picture emblazoned on the truck's side. It was the same bread truck that had run her off the road on her way home from DC over a month ago. There was no time to analyze what that meant, however, because she had to concentrate on driving the damaged car with only a small amount of gas remaining and three motorcyclists still in pursuit.

Around her the volume of traffic was picking up as people began their commutes home. The men following her were trapped several car-lengths behind her now, with no hope of gaining on her as long as she could maintain her position and speed. Something on the underside of the car rattled, but she kept going.

It was fast becoming obvious that she needed to find somewhere safe to park and exit the car – and soon. The ideal place would be a location with a large crowd that she could lose herself in and when she spotted a roadside sign boasting of a large shopping mall just off the exit in three miles, she knew she had her solution.

As she'd done before, she waited until the last possible moment to switch lanes, keeping a close eye on her mirrors to check on the motorcycles. She cheered silently as the closest one to her overshot the exit with no chance to turn back around. The other two saw her take the exit in time to follow, however, several other cars had gotten off with her, maintaining the gap between them.

The exit fed right into the mall's labyrinthine parking lot and she wound her way around it until the motorcycles were no longer in her line of sight. Finding a empty space between two larger vehicles, she pulled in and shut off the engine, exhaling a long sigh of relief for the first time.

Violent chills wracked her body now that her adrenaline was ebbing and she quickly rummaged around the backseat for something warmer to wear. There was a sweatshirt on the floor behind her and she threw it on, not caring that it was several sizes too large.

Time was not a luxury she had at the moment so as soon as she felt she was able, she stepped out of the car. Her legs nearly buckled underneath her and a long, loud coughing spasm began tearing at her chest. The sound of a motorcycle engine revving reached her above the coughing and she had to get going.

Careful to stay between the cars and the engine noises as much as possible, she made her way toward the mall's entrance. At last, only a few yards separated her from her goal and she dashed across the parking lot roadway and toward the front door.

Two men behind her, now on foot, shouted angrily in Russian as the automatic doors slid open to welcome her. Not risking a look at them, she plunged through the entryway and sought refuge amongst the burgeoning evening crowd. Moving as swiftly as she could from one department to the next, she found a rack of formal, floor-length gowns and without a moment's hesitation slipped into their midst.

From the middle of the rack she could see without being seen as people filed by her unknowingly. It was something she remembered as being one of her favorite things to do as a young child. More than once she'd hidden behind a curtain of clothes, enjoying the exercise of observing those who crossed her line of sight. The first time this had happened, her mother had panicked, but afterward she had allowed it, and once or twice had even joined her.

Now she watched with a different purpose and her hiding spot in this game of hide and seek could mean the difference between life or death. It wasn't long before she spotted one of the two men who was hunting her. He stood, eyes combing the area carefully for any sign of her, and she checked quickly to be sure her feet weren't visible.

Before his gaze reached her, however, the other man appeared. The two swarthy men huddled together, speaking quietly in Russian, and attracting the attention of more than one passerby. After what seemed like an eternity to her, they parted ways to continue their search.

She waited until they'd been out of sight for a full five minutes then cautiously eased out of her hiding place, wondering what her next course of action should be. She needed to stay out of sight and find a way to contact Booth. Her body ached with fatigue from the past week and her cough, while intermittent, was deeper in her chest than it had been even two days ago.

Moving out of the department store and into the main throughway of the mall, the scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls hit her and her stomach rumbled with hunger. The ache for food only intensified when she discovered she'd come in on the lower level of the mall right beside the Food Court. Assorted smells assaulted her from every side and her hunger changed to nausea at the sensory overload, though when a man outside one of the stands offered her a free sample she eagerly took one, then another, than another, ignoring the man's irritated glare.

She froze mid-bite when she spotted a leather jacket in her periphery. A blind panic flooded her as the man in the jacket locked eyes with her and stepped forward. Abruptly, she shoved the rest of the sample in her mouth and began making her way quickly through the dinner crowd. Maneuvering around a parade of strollers, she reached a flight of steps and took them two at a time, never risking a glance backward, but feeling quite sure that they were closing in on her.

When she reached the top of the steps a long hallway lined with shops stretched out in front of her. Traversing it she reached what should have been the end of the hall, but instead she found herself in a large, circular room. The room seemed to her to be the hub of the mall, with several small hallways like the one she'd just come from arranged like spokes on a wagon wheel or points on a compass.

Her first instinct was to head left down the corridor marked "West" so instead she went to her right down the "East" one. Now almost at a dead run, she raced toward the end of the corridor where another department store was housed. Her legs were tingling from days of disuse followed by the adrenaline-fueled running, chest heaving through her congestion to catch her next breath.

She plunged into the store, frantic to find another hiding spot.

"Are you alright, madame?" an employee asked politely.

She stopped short of bowling the petite woman over and came to a halt, nodding and gasping for air. Her chest burned, pain radiating everywhere, especially in her throbbing legs. Before any further exchange could be had, she became lightheaded, the strain of the last week finally crashing down on her all at once, and she slumped unceremoniously to the floor.


	46. Message in a Bottle

Chapter 46: Message in a Bottle

It was dinner time when Booth and Rebecca made it to Parker's hospital bedside, though the last thing on either of their minds was food. The boy, at Booth's encouragement, allowed his mother to inspect every inch of his body and ask him a million questions, which he answered as patiently as he could. The doctor felt he was in good shape all things considered, but wanted to keep him overnight for observation and neither Booth nor Rebecca planned on leaving his bedside.

"I'm fine, Mom," Parker shook her off finally. "Me and Dad have to talk about the case now. So that he can find Bones."

Rebecca stepped back with a somber nod, a part of her horrified that her boy had been through so much, yet proud of him for wanting to use what he'd been through to help. She knew just how special the missing woman meant to both Booth boys and that it would be futile to delay the conversation any further. There was a semi-comfortable chair in the back corner of the room and after one last kiss to the top of Parker's head, she stepped away and melted into it.

"Bones said the first thing I need to tell you is that I need a tennis boost," Parker began.

Booth looked at Rebecca, who shrugged, and they both turned back to Parker, "What do you mean, Bub?"

"I dunno," Parker shook his head, swinging his legs carelessly from the hospital bed. "There was this nail and I got cut and she said I needed one."

Rebecca mouthed the word "tetanus" to Booth and slipped out of the room to find the doctor.

Parker watched him mom leave, then focused back on his dad, "They had us in this barn thing, Dad. Bones was tied up by her feet and hands to this stake thing in the ground and my hands were kinda tied and there was a gag so I couldn't yell for help. She tried to make me feel better even before she knew who I was," he smiled sadly.

Booth swallowed a lump in his throat, fiercely proud but missing her all the more. He listened without commenting as Parker described the conditions she'd been living in, his heart aching when Parker mentioned the bad cough Brennan had developed. Still, she'd been strong enough to knock out the guard and fight her way to freedom.

"Then we got the car and had to drive away from the bad guys," Parker continued his narrative after the nurse came in and gave him a tetanus shot. "I got to ride on the floor all curled up tight, which was kinda fun except for the shooting. When I grow up, I'm never gonna wear my seat belt, just like you, Dad!"

This earned Booth double glares from the nurse and from Rebecca, though Parker just rambled blithely on, "Anyway, it was a _long_ trip to the border guys and then they wouldn't let us in 'cause we didn't have papers or anything." Parker looked carefully up at his dad, "I didn't want to leave her but she made me. She wouldn't let me stay with her."

"Hey," Booth stood up and enfolded his son in a gentle hug, "it's okay. She wanted you to be safe, bub."

"But what about her?" Parker was agitated, pulling his head back from the safety of his dad's embrace. "Who's gonna keep _her_ safe?"

"Bones," Booth cleared the emotion from his throat, willing his eyes not to tear up yet, "Bones is a tough woman, Parks. She got you all the way to the border, right?" The boy nodded so Booth went on, "She's tough enough and smart enough to give the bad guys the slip again and get back to us."

"But how will she find us if we're still in Canada?" Parker wanted to know. "And how do we find her?"

"I don't know, kiddo," he shook his head sadly, "but we'll do it one way or the other. Was there anything else she told you to tell me?"

"That she's fine," Parker sniffed, "which is kind of a lie, but I don't think she wanted you to worry, 'cause sometimes you worry too much, Dad."

"Uh huh," Booth ruffled Parker's hair. "You come back and tell me that after _you_ have kids."

They exchanged a grin and Booth pulled back and took a long swig of the Coke that Rebecca offered him.

"OH!" Parker exclaimed, hopping down from the bed all of a sudden and rushing over to the bags that had been filled with his belongings.

He dumped the contents onto the floor unceremoniously and began digging through the small pile until he came up with what he was looking for.

"Here," he grinned widely, shoving the bottle in Booth's hands. "Bones said this would help with the case."

"Okay," Booth dragged the word out, unsure of what his son was getting at, but taking the bottle nonetheless.

Parker tilted his head to one side slightly, "She said it could have DNA 'cause it came from the car we were driving, so maybe the bad guy drank out of it. Mr. Max says your DNA's even in your spit so maybe the guy backwashed a lot, huh?"

"Let's hope so," Booth grinned, hunting around for a bag to put the bottle in.

The next hour was spent with Parker quizzing Booth about the case and now and then the boy would fill in some of the missing details in Booth's descriptions. Though Parker hadn't understood anything the Russians around him had said, he had been put in the backseat of the car without a blindfold and was able to give his dad a very good description of the two men who'd taken him.

"Anybody up for more visitors?" Max Keenan asked, rapping softly on the door before stepping in.

"Mr. Max!" Parker exclaimed, leaping from his bed once more to give the man a tight hug.

"Hey, kiddo," Max's voice was thick with emotion as he hugged Parker in return.

Parker let go for just a moment, then hugged him tightly once more, "That's from Bones," he explained. "I know I missed my dad and I think she misses hers too."

Tears misted across the old ex-con-man's eyes but Parker gave him no time to respond as the boy dragged him across the room to a pile of his things that were still piled on the floor. Parker let go long enough to find his jeans and dig in the back pocket.

"Here," he said triumphantly, holding something small out to Max. "Bones asked me to keep it safe for her when we were getting shot at in the car, but I think maybe she'd want you to keep it until Dad finds her again. She said it was from you."

The lump in Max's throat doubled in size as he took the picture of his little girl from Parker, noting that it was a little more worn than it had been when he'd sent it to her, but was none the worse for wear. He ran a callused finger over her cheek, closing his eyes and letting the memory of that day – of her spinning around and around without a care in the world – play like an old film reel in his mind's eye.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder in moral support and he opened his eyes to Booth's determined look, "We'll bring her back soon."

Max nodded, took one last look at the picture, and placed it gently in his wallet, clearing his throat before announcing, "I'll get the others."

"Others?" Parker perked up with interest.

Booth shrugged as Max strode purposefully out into the hall and called out. A herd of footsteps sounded in the hall as the waiting group surged into the room, all smiling and bearing gifts of different sizes and types for the boy they all loved so much. Angela and Padme both hugged him gently so as not to aggravate his injury and both Cam and Caroline looked agape when Parker came up and gave them each a hug too.

Wendell and Clark gave Parker a miniature air-hockey game that he and Booth could play while he healed, while Sweets and Daisy gave him a small stack of comic books. Jared accepted the tight hug from his nephew and promised just the two of them could go to a Flyers' games the next time they played the Caps. Parker let out a short, excited squeal as Hodgins appeared with Pops in tow, and looked wide-eyed as his great-grandfather pinned one of his old war medals on Parker for his bravery.

"You didn't have to do this," Booth muttered to Hodgins as he sidled up to him.

"We're family," Hodgins waved him off, smiling at Drew and Rebecca being reunited as well, then gave Booth a serious look. "I remember what it's like to be taken away from the people you love."

The two exchanged a look and a nod, surveying the now-animated room. Parker was handing Angela the new crayons and sketchpad he'd gotten from her and insisting she draw a picture of the bad guys he'd seen, while Caroline started barking orders at the nurse for a sterile bag for the bottle Parker had brought back.

"She says she's here to work the case," Hodgins grinned slyly at Caroline before turning to Booth, "but I don't buy it for a second. Hey," he called across the room, "bag his shoes and clothes too and I'll look for particulates."

"Dad, guess what," Parker materialized at Booth's side, tugging at his arm. "Angela told me that Dr. Jack brought everyone here on his very own plane! Isn't that awesome?"

"It is, Pal," Booth nodded with an appreciative look at Hodgins. "Hodgins is a pretty awesome guy."

"And you can ride on it too when we go back home," Hodgins told Parker.

"You gonna stuff me in a helicopter again?" Booth teased, recalling the turbulent ride he and Becca had made earlier.

"Nah," Hodgins shook his head. "We'll let you ride in style this time."

Not long afterward, the nurse came in to take Parker's vitals and shoo everyone but Rebecca and Booth out of the room so that the boy could get some rest. They got him settled into bed and after skipping over several editions of the ten o'clock news, finally found something that was kid-friendly. Fifteen minutes into the movie, Parker, and Booth, and Rebecca were sound asleep.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Hospital officials had been baffled about the identity of the young woman they'd brought in from the mall earlier that evening. Dressed in a large sweatshirt and a tank top and shorts that looked like they hadn't been changed in days, she was dehydrated, undernourished, and appeared to have sustained a moderate concussion recently. Unsure what else to do, they took a picture of her and ran what little of her story they knew of on all of the local news outlets for the late edition, hoping that someone, somewhere would know who she was an contact them.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Dimitri Vladov sat in his favorite armchair, calmly making smoke rings as he enjoyed his evening pipe.

"Take out the trash," he instructed his butler, motioning a dismissive hand toward the dead man on the floor. Something on the television caught his notice, bringing a cold gleam to his eye, "And prepare my things. It's time I cleaned up this mess myself."


	47. Nocturnal Omissions

Chapter 47: Nocturnal Omissions

Her mind was as active as ever, but her body had reached its threshold of her energy reserves, keeping her almost literally trapped in a looping nightmare. Faceless men chased after her relentlessly, always anticipating her next move and staying just a hair behind her so that she felt as if she'd never be free.

Vladov was in her dreams as well: holding her hostage; revealing that Parker hadn't gotten away after all; showing her footage of Booth looking as if every ounce of hope had been squeezed from him. In some of the dreams, Booth made it as far as the old barn where she'd been held only to be forced to watch her die of exposure in his arms. Other times when he showed up, she could only watch helplessly as he was gunned down by a cackling Vladov.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

As Vadov's driver sped him through the night, the man himself was putting the final touches on his plan to recapture the woman who'd proven to be as slippery as an eel even in the care of some of his best men. He hadn't reveled in having to kill Gustav – a man who'd proven his loyalty and worth over the years – but failure was not something he could afford to tolerate in his line of work, so he'd done what he'd had to do and was now in Canada to be sure the American scientist would not escape again.

A small whisper in the back of his mind told him that even if he was successful, the mission objectives as a whole were still compromised. Vladov had seen the separation of Seeley Booth from his team of scientists as the opportune time to strike at the heart of the man who refused to cow to Vladov's wishes. What he hadn't counted on was how quickly that team could, and would, reassemble as soon as they caught wind of the man's arrest. The man could do nothing but watch as bit by bit, they pulled back the curtain on the elaborate facade Valdov had woven.

He had personally been notified when the last of the connections between Vladov's group and the case that had been built against Booth had been made, forcing him to initiate his backup plan. Men of integrity, the Russian knew, almost always had an Achilles' heel when it came to their loved ones and Booth proved no different. Taking the boy had been a risky move in some ways, but the leverage to be gained was too great to be ignored and all seemed to go as smoothly as planned. Until he had escaped. Until Brennan had escaped.

Now Vladov's only chance to inflict pain on the FBI Special Agent was for him to locate the woman Booth loved before Booth did, and if necessary, to kill her.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Seeley Booth was a man torn in two. He watched Parker's chest rise and fall evenly in the dim hospital lighting despite the sling that kept his arm immobilized so that his collarbone could heal properly. His son's freedom, however, had come at a steep cost and while Booth was thankful just for the chance to see, and touch, and hold his boy once again, his heart ached for the woman he couldn't hold.

Was she still on the run? Was she somewhere safe tonight?

He wouldn't let himself consider that she'd suffered through everything Parker had described to him only to be recaptured and possibly hurt; or worse. Temperance Brennan hadn't risen to the acclaim she so proudly boasted of by succumbing to the will of others and he knew as surely as he knew himself that she would fight with every last ounce of breath she had.

The door opened slowly, but it wasn't the nurse's shadow that led the way and suddenly Booth was on high alert. His body relaxed as he recognized Max, and nodded when the older man gestured for Booth to join him outside the door.

"Have you eaten yet?" Max asked softly when the door clicked behind them.

Booth shook his head. Shortly after Parker had drifted off, he'd sent Rebecca with Drew so that she could crash at the hotel Hodgins had rented out for them. It had taken a little bit to pry her away, but eventually he and Drew had managed to persuade her that one of them needed to be well-rested in the morning, not to mention, Booth was the best-equipped of the two of them to handle anyone who might try and take Parker again.

Right now Max was shaking his head at Booth, his frown deepening when the younger man's stomach growled at the thought of food and he urged him, "Go."

"What are you still doing here?" Booth stalled, standing to his feet but still hesitant to leave Parker's side.

"Couldn't sleep," shrugged Max. He tilted his chin at Parker, keeping his eyes steady on Booth, "I'll watch over him."

Booth caught the serious undertone, knowing that if there was one person on the planet who would protect his son like he would it was Max Keenan. As if he was there for nothing more than a social call, Max sat down in the chair Booth had just abandoned, stretched out his legs, and motioned for Booth to leave. Booth's stomach protested loudly once again and he turned for the door, resigning himself to the task of searching for food.

The hospital corridors fluttered with occasional life, but by and large they were deserted. Booth supposed wryly that that was a good thing given how close to midnight it was. At first, he was merely looking for the nearest vending machine, but his stomach was already thinking about getting a full meal and he realized he'd had little more than coffee and smaller snack foods since breakfast.

Following the signs to the cafeteria, he found it open, though running on a skeleton crew, and quickly selected something to eat. It wasn't the best food in the world, but it wasn't the worst, either, and at the moment he really didn't care. His Ranger days had versed him in the art of shoveling food in without tasting it. Soon he was done and anxious to get back to Parker.

At the bank of elevators that would take him back upstairs, there was one open and waiting, but a patient was being loaded onto it and there was little, if any, room for someone else. The orderly pushing the bed motioned that there was room for Booth on-board, but he shook his head, not wanting to invade a sick person's private space like that.

He changed his mind half a second later when he turned to find himself facing the back of Dimitri Vladov's head. The shiny surface of the elevator doors Vladov was facing reflected his face and Booth lost no time jumping in the waiting elevator, keeping his head down until the door closed so as not to arouse suspicion. His hands itched to dig into his pocket for his cell, but he wasn't sure if that was allowed and he wasn't about to find out with an orderly standing right next to him.

The other man asked what floor he wanted and Booth told him one that was two floors above the children's ward. He couldn't know for sure that Vladov hadn't recognized him before the elevators doors closed and the last thing he wanted to do was lead him to Parker. Booth kept his eyes fixed on the red numbers as they moved from floor to floor, his mind racing to formulate a plan.

"Excuse us," the orderly said politely as they reached the third floor.

Booth stepped out of the elevator when the doors parted, allowing the man to steer the unwieldy bed and its occupant out into the hallway. Across from them another elevator opened and a few doctors and nurses stepped out, emptying it. Seeing an opportunity to further cover his tracks, Booth switched elevators and rode the new one to the children's ward, making sure to press the button that would send it to the next floor before exiting.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Consciousness was something that came and went intermittently for Brennan. She knew she wasn't in the mall anymore, but there was never anyone around during the brief moments she could stay awake to ask when she was. Every once in a while, she could sense a group of people surrounding and examining her, but her body was simply too weary to do anything but rest. Each time she awoke she wondered if weeks, days, hours, or mere minutes had passed, but she never was awake long enough to receive an answer.

At one point, she was awakened by the soft jostling of the bed she was laying on as it was pushed. She kept her eyes closed, too fatigued to make the effort. The bed was pushed into a much smaller room and when she felt it shudder, then move, she determined it must be an elevator.

She wasn't even aware of the other man in the elevator with she and the orderly until he grunted out a brief response to the orderly's question. A part of her was curious to be sure this was not one of the men who'd been pursuing her, but the pounding of her head and the heaviness of her eyelids made it impossible to concentrate long enough on performing even the simplest of tasks.

When they arrived at their floor, her eyes opened long enough to see the man stepping away and to one side so that she could be wheeled out. In her murky state of consciousness, she thought the man looked more like Booth than any of Vladov's men, but there was no time to catch a clear glimpse of his face as she was moved once again.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Vladov reached the hospital with no trouble and set off in search of Brennan. After flashing a set of fake credentials he introduced himself as Dr. Vrach, a private physician who'd seen Dr. Brennan on the evening news, recognized his client as their Jane Doe, and had come to oversee her care. There was a buzz as the nurses discussed that yes, indeed, the young woman under their care looked a great deal like the famous author and Vladov sighed quietly in relief that they didn't question her identity – or his – any further.

Unfortunately, he learned that she'd just been transported to the main part of the hospital since she was still unconscious and in need of careful observation. He patiently listened as the attending physician brought him up to speed on her condition, nodding as if he understood everything the other man was saying.

Finally, he escaped the ER and strode through the hospital as fast as he dared in search of the room number they'd given him, clipping the visiting physician's badge they'd issued him, along with his fake ID badge, to the outside of his shirt pocket. Trying to act as professional as possible, he waited patiently at the elevator door, ignoring everyone else around him, then stepped in and willed it to go as quickly as possible to the third floor.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

By the time he stepped off the elevator onto the children's ward, Booth was sure Vladov had seen him and was hot on his heels. He nodded a greeting to the two guards stationed outside Parker's door and had to force himself not to burst in and wake the boy in his rush to get to Max.

The older man looked up when Booth entered, sensing immediately that something wasn't right and he was on his feet faster than Booth would've guessed him capable of. He stepped just outside the room with Booth, waiting until the two guards had gone _in_ the room before tilting his head in an unspoken question.

"Vladov's here," Booth's voice was low and grave. "I saw him."

"You're sure?" Max raised an eyebrow.

Booth glared daggers at him, then said, "He's after Parker again and I'm fairly sure he saw me on my way up. I switched elevators and backtracked as much as I could but it's only a matter of time before he shows up."

"What are you thinking?" Max asked, arms folded across his chest.

Booth shook his head, "I don't know. I don't want to wake Parker up and get him all worked up again, but we can't just wait here like sitting ducks either."

Max nodded with grim understanding, then suggested, "Go tell the nurses. Tell them what he looks like and let them know that under no circumstances are they to give away Parker's identity or location. Maybe even see if we should switch rooms."

"Right," Booth agreed. "I think he's trying to pass himself off as a doctor too, because he had a white lab coat on, but I _know_ it's him!"

"I'll stay here," Max said, drawing something out of his pocket.

Booth's eyes widened slightly at the copper pipe Max now gripped, then narrowed as he nodded his approval, promising, "I'll be right back. If he comes, do whatever you need to."

B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B

"Hey there, Sugar," a soft, plump nurse greeted Brennan as her bed was wheeled into the room.

Now wishing she'd closed her eyes a second sooner, Brennan managed a smile in the woman's direction and wished silently that she wouldn't expect more of an answer. She didn't, but unfortunately, she was one of those nurses who felt it necessary to keep a running commentary as she moved about the room, hooking Brennan up to various monitors.

"Now don't you worry," the nurse patted Brennan's arm, smiling as she turned to leave, "we'll take good care of the two of you. Just get some sleep, okay?"

But Brennan was far from sleep now as the door closed and for the first time it struck her that the rapidly beating heartbeat coming from the smaller monitor was not her own.


	48. Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

Chapter 48: Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

Once Booth was out of sight, Max went back into the room, pocketing the copper pipe again before the guards could see.

"Dad?" a sleepy Parker murmured from the bed.

"Shh, Sport," Max came to stand beside him. "Your dad's just grabbing some coffee. He'll be back in no time."

"Did he find Bones?" Parker shifted under the covers.

"Not yet, kiddo," Max shook his head sadly, stroking the boy's hair. "We will though."

But Parker wasn't ready to go back to sleep quite yet and he sat up, "When I was in the bad guy's car there was a newspaper talking about how Bones had been kidnapped. It took up the whole front page. Is Bones really _that_ famous, Mr. Max?"

"Sort of," Max smiled, knowing how little his daughter ever talked about her acclaim outside of the scientific realm. "Lots of people read her books."

"Yeah," Parker yawned, bobbing his head. "She said maybe someday she's gonna write mystery books about when Kathy Reichs was a kid, 'cause my dad won't let me read the adult ones until I have armpit hair."

One of the guards coughed and cleared his throat, "Um, do you two _know_ Dr. Temperance Brennan? The writer?"

"She's my dad's girlfriend," Parker piped up before Max could stop him. "Max is her dad."

"And we'd prefer to keep a low profile," Max gave the guard a stern look.

"No problem with us, man," the guard held up his hands, then grinned. "We're here to protect and serve. Can't say the press won't find out, though, because they've got their ways."

Max nodded as if he were sympathetic, then pointed at the guard who'd spoken and jerked his head toward the door, "Got a minute? Good. You," he pointed to the other guard, "stay here."

The first guard trailed Max out of the room while the other one resigned himself to being interrogated by the very curious, very awake, ten year-old.

"Look," Max said, keeping his voice low so that it wouldn't carry along the smooth surface of the hallway, "Booth just figured out that the man responsible for taking my daughter is in the hospital right now looking for Parker. He's getting the nurses to help secure the ward so if you and Tweedle Dumb in there know something about a press leak, now would be a good time to speak up."

The kid's eyes grew wide and he shook his head, "No, no! I just meant that they're probably descending on here as we speak what with her being here and everything. Odds are if they know where she is, they know where you are too."

"Where is she?" Max demanded.

The guard shrugged and Max looked pointedly at his radio until he called in and asked for Brennan's location. As soon as the response came back, Max told the guard to stay put, then tore down the hallway.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Booth explained the situation to the nurses, warning them about Vladov and all but ordering them to put the ward on lock-down. Well-versed in what to do in such situations, he watched them take the proper steps to quickly and efficiently do so. Only when he was convinced Parker would be safe did he take off on his own search for Vladov.

The first place he stopped was the security office. He had them pull up Vladov's image from the security feed in the elevator and swore when he watched the man get off on the third floor mere seconds after Booth had switched to a different elevator. He swore under his breath when he realized Vladov had phony medical credentials hanging from his lab coat pocket.

"Alert all floors," Booth told the head of nighttime security. "That man is _not _a doctor and should not be allowed anywhere near patients. I'm not sure exactly what he's after but I can tell you that whatever it is, he's up to no good."

The other man nodded, giving orders to his men to personally call each of the main desks on every floor until the word was out.

"We'll email the nurses too," the security head told him. "I'll send them a few stills from the cameras so they know who to look for."

"Where did Vladov go after he got the the third floor?" Booth wanted to know.

The clatter of computer keys clicking began all around him, but in the end, they couldn't find any proof Vladov had gone anywhere else.

"That's where I'll start then," Booth declared.

For a moment, the head man looked as if he was going to challenge Booth's jurisdiction on foreign soil, but noting the determined set of the Special Agent's jaw, he merely nodded and assigned his two best guards to accompany Booth. Meanwhile, he had the rest of the hospital to protect.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Dimitri Vladov was not a happy man. Upon entering the third floor he'd made his way to the nurses' station intent on finding out which room Brennan had been put in, only to be stopped cold by the nurse who'd apparently been assigned to her. For as soft and congenial as the woman appeared to be on the outside, she had a will of iron and absolutely refused to gain him admittance to her patient.

"I am Dr. Brennan's personal physician," Vladov attempted to reason with her. "It is imperative I see her right away."

"Honey," the nurse shook her head, "I don't care if you're the Pope himself. This poor woman has been through enough today and needs nothing more than to have peace and quiet, along with a good night's sleep. I've checked with the ER and there's no further reason for her to be seen by anyone but me tonight."

"But madam," Vladov protested only to be cut off.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but you are a guest in our hospital and thus subject to yield to our rules," she said firmly but politely. "You're more than welcome to come back in eight hours, but until then, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He nodded briskly, then turned and began plotting his next angle of attack.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Unaware of the chaos swirling around her, Brennan lay in her bed, letting her left hand drift instinctively to her abdomen as her eyes watched the fetal monitor pulse steady and strong. Somehow, despite all she'd been through, her body had sustained this small life and was continuing to sustain it. She marveled at that fact, pushing away the emotional detritus of the past week and allowing herself the overwhelming feeling of happiness that flooded her heart.

"Where do you think you're going, there, Missy?" the kindly nurse asked as she reentered the room only to find Brennan struggling to sit up.

"Booth," was the single word she was able to verbalize amid the jumble of thoughts. "He needs to know."

"Ah," the nurse smiled, crossing the room quickly and handing Brennan the phone. "Just dial '9' to get an outside line."

"It's an American cell phone number," Brennan thought out loud, trying desperately to remember if that made a difference.

The nurse nodded and pressed the appropriate buttons before returning the phone to Brennan, "Just dial the number and you should be fine, Dear."

She left after that, and Brennan's fingers danced across the familiar numbers, trembling with excitement and trepidation at the same time. Her heart fell when the call went directly to his voice-mail. Unable to leave a message at the bland computer voice's prompt, she replaced the phone on the nearby table and attempted not to cry. The urge to cry was even greater when there was also no answer at her father's house. She didn't have the fortitude to try and call Angela.

A few minutes later the nurse came back in to check on her and to Brennan's relief she seemed cognizant of the fact that the call hadn't gone as planned and didn't press her to talk about it. Instead, she moved around the bed, checking Brennan's vitals and marking the results on a small pad of paper, then taking the printout of the fetal monitor's results as well.

"That's one healthy baby you've got there, Dr. Brennan," the nurse smiled widely at her. "Would you like to see some of the printouts from the ultrasound they did in the ER?"

Brennan nodded, her curiosity piqued as the woman produced a long strip of paper from the pocket of her scrubs. Once more her hands trembled uncharacteristically as she accepted the pictures and once more, the nurse seemed to understand her need for privacy.

For a long moment, she simply stared at the images, allowing the reality that she was, indeed, pregnant to strike her anew. Then her eyes narrowed their focus. Instead of the embryonic sac she was expecting to find, there in white was a clearly defined head, torso, and rear amidst the black of the amniotic fluid.

Her mind struggled to equate the measurements marked on the side of the pictures with a gestational age and failed, so she asked the nurse. Eight weeks, came the answer. Of course, she told herself, that would make sense given the strong heartbeat, but it was not the answer she'd been expected and it left her speechless.

"Call me if you need me," the nurse told her as she left. "And do make sure you get some sleep. It's late."

"What time is it?" Brennan looked up from the pictures and asked, then added, "What day is it?"

"Just a hair after midnight on Friday, Dr. Brennan," came the reply.

"How did you know my name?" she wanted to know, remembering that she had no form of identification on her person.

"Your doctor told someone in the ER," the nurse shrugged, then laid a reassuring hand on Brennan's forearm. "Now, word of your arrival did spread like wildfire, but don't you worry! Our staff is fully trained to protect your privacy and keep the media at bay."

Brennan nodded, then frowned, "My doctor?"

"Your personal physician," the nurse repeated. "Dr. Vrach."

The word sounded familiar and she blanched when its meaning struck her, "Vrach is a pseudonym," she told the nurse quickly. "It's Russian for 'physician' which means he's more than likely one of the men responsible for my kidnapping."

"Well," the nurse managed a shaken smile, "it's a good thing I turned him away, then, isn't it?"

Brennan's head bobbed up and down and despite herself, she yawned.

"Get some sleep, dear," the woman smiled, turning off all but the bedside light.


	49. Knowing is Half the Battle

**A/N: The last few weeks have been crazy, thus the irregular updates. I promise I'm not holding out on everyone, but the two little people in my life have needed me. That said, I'm still trying to update as often as I can and thank you all for the reviews because this is where all my free time is going.**

**Thnx,**

**Gum**

Chapter 49: Knowing is Half the Battle

Booth stepped off of the elevator onto the third floor, his body battling fatigue but his mind as sharp as it ever was. Vladov was nowhere to be seen, so Booth went off in the last direction the security cameras had caught the other man going. Like Vladov, he made it to the nurses' station, but not beyond.

"It's our policy to put our patients' needs first," the head nurse explained to him. "I was on break at the time, but more than likely, your Mr. Vladov was turned away here."

"He was posing as a doctor," Booth tried to explain. "Maybe someone just let him through? Or gave him the information he was looking for?"

The woman shook her head firmly, "No. We have strict protocols up here, Agent Booth. That wouldn't have happened."

The longer Booth stood there, the more agitated he became, knowing that Vladov could be anywhere by now and possibly closer to finding his son. The nurse remained steadfast in her position that Vladov would not have been granted access to patients, but at Booth's continued insistence she left Booth at the desk and went back into the ward to find the nurse who would've been out at that time. Several minutes later she emerged, informing Booth that the other nurse was needed with a patient at the moment, but that she had confirmed Vladov had gotten no further than the front desk.

"Thank you," Booth's shoulder's sagged with just the slightest relief, though he had no clue where he should go from there.

Weary from the day and suddenly aware of the late hour he returned to the elevators. The group of them trooped through the halls back to the security office. A group of men huddled around several monitors, scouring the older video footage for Vladov, while another group kept close watch on the current feed. Booth and the security chief went over all the steps that had been taken to secure all entry and exit points, as well as the individual wards themselves.

Sometime later, Booth found himself yawning and the chief suggested he go back to Parker's room and get some rest. There was no evidence that Vladov was still on the premises and every precaution had been taken to be sure he couldn't get back on. With a long, weary sigh Booth conceded that he could do no more without sleep and with Parker as safe and secure as he could be rest was the next order of business if he wanted to survive.

The chief himself took Booth in the one elevator that could get them into the children's ward, swiping his key-card to let Booth out when they reached the right floor. Booth's respect for the hospital went up markedly as he was stopped at three separate checkpoints after that, where he had to show ID before he was escorted by one of the nurses into Parker's room.

"Hey, Dad!" a huge grin lit up Parker's face as he looked up from the card game he and Max were engrossed in.

"Max!" Booth groaned, "You were supposed to keep Parker safe, not wake him up!"

"Aw, he didn't-"

"Look your kid has a mind of his own, Booth," Max cut the boy off with a sly smile. "I just told him I'd wait up with him until you got back."

"Were they out of coffee?" Parker asked his father curiously.

"Huh?" Booth looked from Parker to Max, then back to Parker. "Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, bub, they were all out."

"Did you see Bones?" came the next eager question before Max could step in.

This time, Booth's eyes were riveted to the older man.

"Booth, my boy," Max stood up, clapping Booth on the back as if everything was normal, "there's something you should know."

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Vladov was after her. She was running, always running, staying ahead of him, but never quite able to lose him. Dodging doctors and nurses, she wove through the corridors and out the front door. Halfway across the parking lot she tripped she tripped, slamming down to the pavement.

A whimper escaped her trembling lips as he descended on her, pulling her up sharply so that she was on her feet. She barely had time to open her mouth in protest as his fist slammed into her abdomen, striking over and over again with increasing force.

When he was finished she asked tremulously if he was going to kill her but instead of an answer all he did was laugh, turn on his heel and walk away. As his figure receded from view, she looked down to find blood trickling from between her legs.

In the distance she saw Booth running toward her. Heard him calling her name. And she screamed.

_"Bones,"_ she felt her shoulders being shaken as she surfaced from the dream. "Bones!"

"Booth!" her eyes flew open to find his face, his body, mere inches from her own.

He crushed her against his chest forcefully, but not hard enough to hurt her, muttering, "Shh, I got you, Baby," in her left ear. Squelching questions as to what he was doing in her hospital room and where Vladov was, she allowed her arms to anchor her to Booth as she drank in the rich scent she'd been craving for over a week.

"Parker?" the single word drifted up to him so softly at first that he thought he was hearing things.

When he looked down into her eyes, though, they were wide and filled with concern so he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled, "He's fine. Just upstairs, actually. He's begging to see you."

"I'd like that," she sighed, her body sagging in his grip with relief.

A million question lay between them unanswered, but for now she was content with the fact he was there and he was more than willing not to push her into talking about anything. There'd be plenty of time for conversation later. Neither one of them could ever say who made the first move, but the end result was a passionate kiss from which they drank long and deep.

His taste felt so good in her mouth Brennan thought she might never be able to get enough of it no matter how illogical she knew the concept was. While their lips moved in synch her hands mapped out the planes of his chest, making certain that each sculpted muscle was just as she'd remembered it, then moved to his strong, wide back and pulled him closer still.

"Mmm," he rested his forehead on hers, pulling back his lips just slightly. "I missed you, Bones."

"I missed you too," she couldn't help the catch in her voice and raised a hand to gently brush the lone tear tracking down his cheek. "I love you."

She startled as he drew away abruptly and stood up straight, his eyes boring into her intently.

His hands plunged into the pockets of his jeans as he began pacing like a caged tiger, "Look, Bones, I know this might not be the greatest timing on my part and I'm not even sure I should be doing this." He paused long enough to release a whoosh of air, "Hell, I never wanted it to be like this-"

"Booth," she reached out to comfort whatever was bothering him, concerned with the stress and uncertainty she read in his eyes, "you don't have to do this. Whatever you want to say can wait."

"No," he shook his head vehemently, hands flying from his pockets to run through his hair before he said softly, "No, it can't, Bones. I – I almost waited too long to say this and I don't want to wait any longer."

"Okay," she nodded. "It's okay, Booth."

"The thing is," he stumbled with his words, "that when it comes right down to stuff-" He stopped again to compose himself, coming to a halt beside her bed as he fumbled in his pocket.

Brennan watched as if things were in slow motion as he pulled out a small velvet box that seemed dwarfed in the palm of his hand. With half an ear, she listened as he spoke: about what had happened in the past; about how scared he'd been when she went missing; and about all he wanted for them and for their future. She tried to stop him because she knew what he was leading up to and she still hadn't gotten to share her own very important news. He shook her off though and pressed on, determined to have his say.

Before she knew what was happening, he dropped down on one knee and looked up at her, asking her if she would spend the rest of her life with him. Asking her if she'd be his wife. Her eyes closed of their own accord, but instead of the fear and the countless arguments against that she was used to encountering, she saw herself as a young girl spinning wildly and gleefully without a care in the world. When she opened her eyes to find him waiting for her response she knew what her answer would be.

**B&B&B&B&B&B**

His heart had raced when she'd started thrashing on the bed. It was seven in the morning and Booth had passed the night on the cot the hospital had graciously provided for him. It had taken more than a few shakes to awaken her and when he finally did her eyes were glazed and unfocused.

From there they'd hugged, then kissed, and after he'd prattled on and on feeling more and more like a kid asking his first crush to the junior prom, he finally pulled the box out and dropped to one knee. He watched her eyes close and wondered what that meant, and the longer they were closed, the more worried he felt.

Then she shook her head and her eyes bored into his before she told him firmly, "We need to talk."


	50. Relatively Speaking

Chapter 50: Relatively Speaking

"Talk?" Booth spluttered, feeling suddenly foolish that he was on one knee.

"Yes," she replied in her precise manner. "There are some extenuating circumstances that you are not yet cognizant of and it would be irresponsible of me to accept without first talking with you about them."

He breathed a small sigh of relief that it at least sounded like she wasn't going to turn him down flat. Rising to his feet, he set the ring box on the beside table.

"So," he smiled nervously, tongue darting in and out of its own accord, "a talk?"

"It's not a negative thing," she took his hand as if to reassure him, then frowned. "At least I don't think you'll think it is."

"You know I don't care, right?" he asked earnestly. "Whatever – _whatever _you have to tell me it doesn't change the fact that I want to marry you."

She smiled and shook her head teasingly, "You can't know that until I tell you what it is."

"Are you gonna sit there and tell me what I can and can't know or are you gonna tell me already?" he teased back, poking her lightly in the arm.

"Fine," she smirked, then nodded to her left. "Do you see that monitor?" He nodded and she went on, "Go over there and turn the volume knob up."

He raised an eyebrow but rose to follow her instructions, "Which one's the volume? There are a million knobs on this thing."

"There are not," she rolled her eyes. "It's the one all the way on your right."

"This one?" he jabbed a finger at the knob he thought she was talking about and was slightly pleased with himself when she nodded.

As he turned it, a steady whooshing noise filled the small room and he watched the most tender smile he'd ever seen blossom on Brennan's face. Slowly, so as not to break the spell she'd fallen under he walked back to her side and sat down beside her as she made room for him. Still unsure what is was she wanted to talk about he reached out to cup her face, but she intercepted him, meshing her fingers with his and bringing them to rest gently on her stomach.

He studied her as her eyes flicked from their joined hands, to his face, and then back again, obviously unsure how to proceed from there. "Are you okay, Bones?" concern filled his voice as he looked over at the monitor, "Your heart's beating a mile a minute."

"A normal adult heart rate is between 60 and 100 beats per minute," she suddenly found her voice.

"Okay," he stretched the word out, wondering what had sparked the impromptu science lesson, but smiling as she continued on the tangent.

"-that's almost twice what mine is," she was saying.

He nodded but the look she was giving him implied he'd missed some vital clue as to what she was talking about somewhere along the way.

"It _is_, however, a very healthy rate for an eight week old fetus," her grin stretched from ear to ear as she met his eyes and looked down once more to where their hands rested.

The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked in Booth's mind and he could've sworn his own heart stopped as he whispered, "You mean..."

She nodded deliberately and released his fingers from her grip, leaving them to lay flat on her stomach. There was a slight bump of static out of the speakers at the contact before the whooshing resumed.

"Whoa," he managed, voice filled with awe as he let the news sink in.

"Horse," she let out a very un-Brennan-like giggle, followed by a self-satisfied smile at her joke.

His fingers trailed softly along the hospital gown, letting the knowledge of what lay beneath sink in fully. "So you're okay? The baby's okay?" a sudden fear gripped him that something may have gone wrong after all she'd been through.

"I'm fine," she raised a hand to brush at his days-old stubble. "The baby's fine."

"Baby," he repeated the word, marveling at the thought.

"Yes," that tender smile he'd seen earlier was back and it made his heart well with more love for her than he'd ever thought possible. Her chin tilted, "Now do you see why I wished to talk with you before responding to your proposal?"

"This _is_ pretty big news," he admitted, tracing a circle around her belly with his finger before smiling up at her. "Doesn't change my question, though. Well," he thought for a moment, "maybe it does a little."

Turning away from a slightly stunned Brennan, he took the box off the nightstand and pried the lid open carefully once more and cleared his throat, "Bones, you and I have been through just about everything together. Good times, bad times, and even a few really great times. Through it all you've been there for me, Bones-"

"You said all of this before, Booth," she shook her head, slightly confused. "Why are you saying it again?"

"So what I want to know," he smiled, continuing as if she'd said nothing, "is will you join my family?"

"Your family?" she breathed.

He nodded, "I mean, that's what marriage is, right? A family? You, and me, and Parker, and this new little one," he laid his free hand on her stomach, "I think we'd make an amazing family together, don't you?"

Her head bobbed up and down, eyes welling up with unshed tears. To his surprise she slid her left hand up, proffering it to him and without a moment's hesitation he captured it and slid the ring on. It fit perfectly.

"She said yes," he bent down and spoke into her bellybutton. "Hey," he straightened up, shrugging his shoulders at the woman who was fixing him with a very dubious look, "this affects him too, you know?"

There was a soft knock on the door before Brennan could correct him about not knowing the gender and the pair looked up to find a nurse gently peeking her head in.

"It's safe," Booth assured her with a smile, not moving from his perch on the bed.

The nurse, whose name-tag read, "Janice," smiled slyly but said nothing as she maneuvered around Booth and the bed, checking Brennan's vitals. She needn't have worried about intruding on the couple's privacy as they sat, transfixed on one another as if she didn't even exist. Booth's hand alternated from resting on his fiancee's stomach to her left hand, his fingers gently twisting the ring back and forth. Brennan, meanwhile, contemplated the feelings of fullness and satisfaction she'd been experiencing at the prospect of being a mother.

"Is everything okay?" he asked the nurse somewhat anxiously when she reached the baby's heart monitor.

Janice nodded with a wide grin, "That's one strong baby you've got there, Daddy. Now," she was suddenly all business, "we've got us some girl stuff to do so why don't you scoot along for a little bit?"

Booth and Brennan looked like that was the last thing either of them wanted to do, but the nurse who'd valiantly stood watch over Brennan that night held her ground and eventually succeeded in persuading Booth that Brennan would be perfectly safe. She even promised that if he was a good boy, she'd wheel in the ultrasound machine when he came back. The prospect of seeing the new little life was enough to shoo him out the door and up to his oldest child's room.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

"She's fine," Booth said for what felt like the thousandth time that morning.

There'd been a squint convention in full swing when he'd entered Parker's room and the questions had been raining on him ever since. He was honestly surprised they hadn't all been kicked out yet for the noise they were generating and he suspected they were being cut a good deal of slack after everything that had gone down the night before.

It took everything in Booth not to spill the beans about the baby, but he and Brennan hadn't discussed how they were going to handle doling out that bit of trivia. Not that anyone would've suspected anything the way the squints were talking all over each other, while Jared, Pops, and Parker talked sports, and Becca, Padme, and Drew discussed the school system in DC. Booth thought he caught a gleam in Max's eye, but the old con-man hid it so fast, Booth wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it.

"She's fine," this time it was Max who spoke the words to Booth, coming up from behind and slapping the younger man on the shoulder.

Booth nodded and muttered low enough for only Max to hear, "Vladov's still out there. Security tapes caught him leaving and no one's seen anything else since."

"Tapes?" Max murmured back. "And they've got nothing?"

"Nothing," Booth shook his head discreetly, plastering on a smile as Angela and Hodgins walked by.

He could've sworn he heard Max say, "Good," but before he could pursue that line of questioning, Cam called him over to talk about the case. Fixing the old man with a look that told him they weren't done by a long shot, Booth strolled casually over and chatted with Cam. The Canadians, it seemed, got a hit off the DNA on the bottle Parker had brought back from the car. They'd matched it to a man with known ties to Vladov, and while they hadn't found him yet, they were confident they would shortly.

Hodgins jumped in, explaining that the hospital had set him up in a lab downstairs to go over the particulates they'd recovered from Parker's clothes. Given the split jurisdiction in the case, he'd be working with a Canadian scientist, but according to Hodgins the two men had hit it off just fine. Just when Booth thought he'd worked himself free of squints, Angela materialized out of nowhere with a sketchpad full of drawings she'd taken both of the farmhouse and of the people Parker had seen during his captivity. She assured Booth that the little boy hadn't been traumatized one bit and had actually enjoyed retelling his adventures.

Around lunchtime, Jared announced that it was time to hunt up some food and give Parker a chance to rest, while Angela decided that she and the other women needed to go on a shopping spree for Brennan so that she'd have clothes to wear home. Booth waved them all off, assuring Becca that he had things well under control for the time being.

"Uh uh," he clothes-lined Max as the other man tried to sneak out. "You stay here."

"I thought I'd go see Tempe," Max protested.

"You can," Booth promised, "_after_ I get some answers."

Max pinched his lips together, eyes narrowing slightly, but said nothing.

"What do you know?" Booth pressed, keeping his voice low.

"She's fine," was all Max would divulge.

"Right," Booth tapped his foot, "I'm sure that's real comforting and all but what does it mean?" He caught the tic in Max's jaw and kept on, "What have you done, Max? Any little clue would be helpful now."

"Hey Dad!" Parker called from the bed, tossing something up in the air and then catching it. "Did you see this awesome coin Mr. Max gave me? It's got Christopher Columbus on it and everything!"


	51. Decisions, Decisions

Chapter 51: Decisions, Decisions

_Friday, August 6, 2010, 12:15 am:_

Max slipped into the hall outside the children's ward and pondered his next move. His first thought was to go see his daughter. The security guard had assured him Tempe was in a regular room with no life-threatening injuries, but Max needed to be sure. On the other hand, the fact that Vladov was running around the building did nothing to calm him no matter what Booth and the Canadians were doing already.

As he continued down the corridor a movement on his left caught his eye and he pressed himself into an alcove and out of sight. A man, no older than Max himself, was shedding a white lab coat, all the while looking around furtively. Max melted further into the shadows, willing the man not to see him and at the same time wishing for just a little more light to see the man's face.

Half a minute later, the man was on his phone, speaking in clipped Russian. It was proof enough for Max that this was Vladov and that he wasn't operating alone. Not for the first time Max mused that a cell phone would be a useful thing to have handy for times like this, but Vladov was now on the move and Max had no choice but to follow him without any kind of backup.

Careful not to attract attention, Max crept along behind Vladov as the man wove through the hospital. The further they went, however, the more convinced Max became that Parker wasn't Vladov's target, leaving only one viable alternative. Tempe.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Dimitri Vladov was growing agitated. Being rebuffed by the nurse had not been part of his plan and he was finding it difficult to improvise. To make matters worse, security in the hospital overall had been increased, forcing him to shed his cover as a doctor, and his driver had informed him that word of Dr. Brennan's hospitalization had gotten out to the press. Already, the man informed him, vehicles were arriving, as a crowd of reporters gathered outside hoping for a statement. This gave Vladov an idea and he made his way back to the parking lot as swiftly as he could.

A few times he felt as if he were being followed, but every time he looked back, he saw nothing and he convinced himself he was paranoid. Even if Agent Booth had heard by now that Dr. Brennan was in Canada, he wouldn't arrive until later in the day and the odds were slim he would know to even look for Vladov.

Waving casually to the nighttime security guard, the Russian mobster exited the building and breathed in the cooler air. A light rain had just begun to fall and he peered into the gloom for any sign of his car. No sooner had he lifted his cell phone to his ear to make the call did he feel a sharp piece of cool metal press against his neck.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

Max couldn't believe his luck when he realized Vladov was heading for the front door. Doubling back slightly he went out a different way and hid himself in the bushes outside of the main entrance while he waited. It wasn't long before he spotted his quarry stepping out into the open. Vladov took a few steps forward, then halted no less than ten feet from Max's hiding spot.

The ex-con-man counted to five and when he was sure on one was around, he leapt up, pressing the sharpened end of the copper pipe against the other man's jugular.

"Let's go for a walk," Max suggested in a low voice.

For a second he thought Vladov was going to resist, but instead he nodded slowly and allowed Max to herd him away from the hospital and further into the shadows. There was a small copse of trees not far away and when he was sure they couldn't been seen from any angle, Max signaled for a stop. Around them, water drizzled in through the canopy of tree branches, the moon passing in and out of view as the rainclouds passed.

"Max Keenan," Vladov nodded calmly as if this were a scheduled appointment. "I thought I had heard you retired?"

"I heard you don't like getting your hands dirty," Max countered without giving an inch.

"Circumstances necessitated a change," shrugged Vladov. "I'm sure you understand."

Max grunted, "We do what we have to."

"Indeed," the mobster agreed. He cleared his throat, clasping his hands in front of him and acting for all the world as if he wasn't in mortal peril, "And now we are at an impasse, are we not?"

"Seeing as you're the one about to be skewered I'd say not," replied Max, reapplying the pressure.

If the other man was concerned he didn't show it, but continued talking as if he hadn't been interrupted, "Surely, you must know I am a man who abhors leaving a job unfinished, just as I know you are a man who is willing to do anything to protect his family. My men have been instructed to do away with your precious daughter should I go missing and I assure you they are not in the habit of failing."

"They already have failed or you wouldn't have to be here in the first place," Max pointed out. "You won't be harming her or Booth any time soon."

"Ah, yes," sighed Vladov, "Seeley Booth. Surely you cannot be so foolish to think that a man of such scruples and lofty principles can last long in his field?"

Max wasn't but his face remained stoic and his gaze never wavered. Somewhere along the way he'd come to like the FBI agent no matter how idealized the other man's views of duty and patriotism were. He never would've given Booth the ring set if he hadn't believed he could take care of Tempe and if for no other reason than that he made Max's baby girl happy, Booth had fallen under Max's hedge of protection.

As the stare-down dragged out longer and longer, Max began to second guess himself. From the moment he'd set foot outside the hospital, he'd know he was picking a fight he might not be able to win. Max's previous dealings outside of the law were chump change according to the dirt he and Booth had uncovered on Vladov and the man certainly wasn't acting like he felt he was in danger.

"You cannot win this," Vladov smirked as if he could read minds.

"Booth's got enough evidence to nail you on both sides of the border," Max retorted. "Hard to win when you're rotting in jail."

Vladov raised an eyebrow as if surprised Max would allow him to stay alive, "Possessing enough evidence to go to trial is one thing." He raised one shoulder indifferently, "We both know the jury is the human factor. And highly persuadable."

Unsurprised that the Russian had done his homework too Max considered his options. It would be nothing to kill the man where he stood and burn the body deep in the woods. This man had been directly responsible for stealing his girl away for a full week and Max had killed for less than that in the past. Another appealing option would involve the same end result but with a little torture mixed in just to wipe that smirk off Vladov's face once and for all. Or he could take the high road and haul the man back into the hospital, leaving Booth and the authorities deal with him. Cursing Booth, Vladov, and even himself, Max shook his head and made his decision.

When the deed was done he cleaned up, making it back into Parker's room with time to get start playing a card game with the boy to keep him distracted until Booth made his way back. When the boy let it slip that Tempe was in the hospital, Max decided it wasn't the time to go announcing what had happened with Vladov. There would be time enough in the morning and until then Max would allow himself the best sleep he'd had in over a week.

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

_Friday, August 6, 2010, 9 am:_

"Wanna clue me in on what's going on here?" Booth asked as he steered Max out into the hallway.

Max shrugged innocently and Booth waved the coin in front of him for good measure, "Hey, a little change in life is good, right?"

"You're hilarious," Booth deadpanned. "Now, because my son likes you, I'm going to give you to the count of five to tell me what the hell you did to Vladov. One. Two-"

"A sense of humor wouldn't kill you, you know?" Max gave a weak chuckle then waved. "Fine, fine, it's not what you think."

"It better not be because the last time I saw one of these I had to put _my_ career on the line for your ass," warned Booth, though he backed off just a hair.

"Vladov and his driving buddy aren't far," Max assured him with a sly grin.

"Define 'not far.'"

"Little cluster of trees about twenty yards east of the main entrance," Max went on, chucking his thumb off to the right. "Don't worry, I took them a doughnut or two earlier and told them you'd be along eventually. I tie a mean knot so they won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Booth looked like he was debating whether to throttle Max or hug him, but he settled for a curt nod before heading over to the nearby security guard. They talked for a few minutes, talked on the radio for a few more, and finally Booth rejoined the older man.

"You going to let them have all the glory?" scoffed Max.

"Nah," Booth grinned. "We figure they can wait while we sort out jurisdictional politics. Besides, no one wants to go out in the rain and the guys downstairs say it should clear up in an hour or so."

"Works for me," Max returned the grin.

"Yup," Booth nodded. "Now, in the meantime, I vote we grab Parker and go see if that nurse is done with Bones yet."

This time, his smile was wide and genuine, "Sounds like a plan."


	52. Going Home

Chapter 52: Going Home

It was close to eleven when Booth and the Canadians wandered out to retrieve Vladov. Booth didn't want to know where Max had scared up the thick rope and plastic binders so quickly, but he had to give the guy credit for his handiwork. Sure, the two men looked a bit bedraggled having spent the night tied to a tree in the cold, wet rain, but no excessive force had been used and aside from a few brush burns at the wrists they were unharmed.

"The shoes were a nice touch," Booth murmured at Max out of the side of his mouth. He flashed a smarmy grin at Vladov and waved his fingers as the men were loaded into the cop car.

"I find most people don't get too far in bare feet," Max replied. "So what happens next?"

"We finish getting all the evidence and building our case and let the lawyers have it from there," Booth kicked at a stone on the pavement as they walked back toward the hospital.

"Hey, I didn't let the guy live so he could get off easy," protested Max.

"No," Booth shook his head, "you let him live because Bones would never trust you again, let alone see your grandkid."

"Grandkid," Max brightened at the word. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah," the same goofy grin that had been occupying Booth's face most of the morning struck again. "I thought Pops was gonna-" He stopped mid-sentence, jaw dropping, "What's going on here?"

"I'm going home," a very stubborn Temperance Brennan declared as she stood in front of him, surrounded by their friends, almost daring him to tell her otherwise.

"Me too," Parker piped up from beside her. "Dr. Hodgins said we can all fly on his jet! Isn't that awesome?"

"Very," Booth said quickly, then quirked his eyebrow at Brennan. "Is that safe? For you, I mean, in your-"

"I'm having a baby, Booth," she interrupted him. Taking his elbow, she steered him over to one side of the room and spoke in a low, but firm, voice, "There are literally billions of women who have gone through this experience before and I would appreciate you not treating me as if I'm some fragile creature in need of your constant supervision. I am a scientist above all else and while I've never carried a child before, I'm well aware of the risks and limitations."

Booth had enough sense to looked chagrined, and he captured her right hand, meshing her fingers with his. "I just need to make sure you both are okay," he told her sincerely. "That's who _I_ am."

"I'm okay," she assured him. "The baby is okay. I just want to go home."

The word "home" was all but whispered and she leaned into him, suddenly feeling drained emotionally more than anything else. She had been stripped of her family, her friends, proper lodging, and adequate meals for the last week. The doctor who'd seen her that morning had granted her discharge request after grudgingly admitting that she wasn't in need of any specialized services and that she would most likely get more rest at home than in a hospital bed. A sturdy arm wrapped around her, giving her the support she needed without making her feel smothered and the pair turned to face the crowd pretending to look everywhere but right at them.

"Well, you heard the lady," Booth gestured grandly at the doors, "let's go home."

**B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B**

If either Booth or Brennan thought they were going to get any sleep on the plane they were sadly mistaken. Angela made sure to corral Brennan into passing along every last detail they'd learned about the baby, and there was a fair amount of oohing and ahhing when a very proud daddy slipped in the DVD they'd gotten of the ultrasound. Parker declared that it looked like a bean jumping around and the nickname "Bean" stuck despite Brennan's arguments to the contrary.

"It's a good thing," Booth assured her later that night as they prepared for bed. "A big brother thing."

"Is that why you gave me a nickname?" she teased. "Because you thought of me as a sibling?"

He joined her in a laugh and shook his head, "Um, nope. I think it had something to do with the fact that I liked you and was trying to impress you so that I could spend the rest of my life with you."

"You barely knew me," she scoffed, settling down on the bed in the circle of his arms and craning her neck around to look up at him.

"Hey, you gave me a nickname too if I recall correctly," he winked, pressing a kiss against her temple.

Her nose wrinkled, "It wasn't very original."

"Maybe not the 'Shoes' part," he shrugged, "but the free thinking, rogue-rebel thing? That rocked."

"Well," she said smugly, "according to Parker, I _am_ awesome you know."

They laughed, savoring the moment where everything seemed good and stable in the world. Later, there would be time enough to talk about the case, Vladov's trial, and for Booth to aid in the effort to sweep up the remnants of the fractured organization. There would be time for her to assuage the guilt he felt for putting them all in danger and time for him to gather her in her arms when she awoke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night unsure of where she was.

Time marched on. The Maluku Project never did unearth any of humanity's secrets and closed its doors permanently, while the Academy had decided that Booth's skills would be of more use to them in the field than in the classroom. As August crept closer to September, they found themselves once again packing up their belongings and moving back to DC. Freed from their respective contracts, the duo promptly announced to family and friends that they were going on a well-deserved, indefinitely long vacation to the Carolina coastline, after which they would decide when and how their working relationship would resume.

Brennan spent the trip down to the beach house they'd rented positing all of the possible scenarios, while Booth tried to persuade her the world could wait for a while. The last lazy days of summer drifted by, ushering them into Fall with no interruptions save the occasional family member or squint dropping by for the weekend. For Brennan, it was the opportunity she'd been seeking to gain perspective on how her life was shifting gears, though Booth teased her that it was a good thing she wasn't at the lab when the worst of the morning sickness hit. He, meanwhile, savored every second of tranquility, marveling silently at the changes in both Brennan's body and spirit. All too soon, he knew, real life would come back with a vengeance and they would be swept up in the next adventure. But right now – for the moment – they just _were_.

**A/N: I wasn't planning on ending this soon but at the same time, this seemed to be a natural stopping point. I am going to keep this going, though. I have a few things I want to finish up and I am also working on another part of the "Wonderful World" saga called "Nobody Knows Me" before I start one that follows this series(I'm still looking for a title for it). **

**Stay tuned! **

**Gum :)**

**Horizon Line: The point at which land and sea converge.**


	53. The Sequel Has Landed

Happy New Year!

The next story in this series is now out! "Linear Perspective" will take the same characters I've built here and move them along into the season six timeline. I'm very interested to see how they will react to the cases/situations HH & Co put them into. I fully intend to include an emotional crisis in "Doctor in the Photo" though Carla Kettner set the bar high on that one. While I loved doing the original story in "Horizon," I also really enjoyed tweaking the show in "Vanishing Point." So if you enjoyed this one, come on over and check it out! Once again, thanks to all of my readers and reviewers for making 2010 such a good one and the best to you in the new year!

Gum :)


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